^ 

>^^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


■^  .^  A 


My 


fe 


:/. 


^ 


:/. 


^ 


^ 


LL 

1.25 


2.5 
2.2 


^ 


|2.0 

'Am 


? 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^^ 


iV 


^ 


,v 


N> 


k 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSO 

(71«)  •73-4S03 


;\ 


0 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


j 

> 

: 

? 

^ 

i 

^ 

i 

CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historicai  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Noiat  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  avaiiabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibiiographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  uauai  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


D 


D 


n 


n 


n 


Colourad  covara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I      I    Covara  damagad/ 


Couvartura  endommagAa 

Covara  raatorad  and/or  iaminatad/ 
Couvartura  raatauria  at/ou  paiiiculAa 


I      I    Covar  titia  misaing/ 


La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 


|~~]    Coloured  mapa/ 


Cartaa  gAographiquaa  an  coulaur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I      I    Coloured  platea  and/or  illuatrationa/ 


Planchaa  et/ou  illuatrationa  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Raiii  avec  d'autrea  documanta 

Tight  binding  may  cauae  ahadowa  or  diatortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  aarr^e  paut  cauaar  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
diatortion  la  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leavea  added  during  reatoratlon  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  poaaibla,  theae 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  ae  peut  que  certainea  pagea  blanchea  ajouttea 
lore  d'une  reatauration  apparaiaaent  dana  la  texte, 
mala,  ioraqua  cela  itait  poaaibla,  cea  pagea  n'ont 
paa  4tA  fiimiaa. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commentairea  aupplAmentairea: 


L'Inatitut  a  microfilm^  la  meilleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  Atd  poaaibla  de  ae  procurer.  Lea  dAtaila 
de  cet  exemplaira  qui  sont  paut-Atre  uniquea  du 
point  de  vue  bibllographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  imege  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dana  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
aont  indiqute  ci-daaaoua. 


I     I   Colourad  pagea/ 


Q 


Thia  item  ia  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  eat  filmA  au  taux  de  reduction  indlquA  ci-deaaoua. 


Pagea  de  couleur 

Pagea  damaged/ 
Pagea  andommag^aa 

Pagea  reatored  and/oi 

Pagea  reataur^aa  et/ou  pellicultea 


I — I    Pagea  damaged/ 

|~~|    Pagea  raatorad  and/or  laminated/ 


0   Pagea  diacoiourad,  atained  or  foxed/ 
Pagea  dAcoiorAea,  tachatiea  ou  piquAea 

□   Pagea  detached/ 
Pagea  d^tachiaa 

HShowthrough/ 
Tranaparence 

□    Quality  of  print  variaa/ 
Qualit^  inigaia  de  I'lmpreaaion 

□    Includea  aupplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  auppi^mantaira 

□    Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  diaponibla 


Pagea  wholly  or  partially  obacured  by  errata 
alipa,  tiaauaa,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
enaure  the  beat  poaaibla  image/ 
Lea  pagea  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obacurciea  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmiea  A  nouveau  de  fafon  ik 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  poaaibla. 


Tha 
tot 


The 
poa 
of 
film! 


Ori( 
beg 
the 
aior 
oth 
firsi 
sior 
ori 


The 
aha 
TIN 
whi 

Mar 
diffi 
enti 
beg 
righ 
reqi 
met 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

aox 

24X 

28X 

32X 

■ir« 
details 
U0S  du 
t  modifier 
ger  un« 
I  filmaga 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanlcs 
to  the  generosity  of: 

MacOdrum  Library 
Carlaton  Univanity 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quelity 
possibie  considering  the  condition  and  iegibiiity 
of  the  originai  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  iliustreted  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


tea 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnirosit*  da: 

MaoOdrum  Library 
Carlaton  Univarsity 

Les  Images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grsnd  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  rexemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmaga. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimte  sont  filmte  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmto  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaTtra  sur  la 
derniire  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — »>  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN  ". 


re 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ere  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichA,  il  est  film*  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


y  errata 
>d  to 

nt 

ne  pelure, 

\(fon  A 


I] 


1 

2 

3 

3iX 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 

Johnson.  Vi. 


/V 


). 


?  S    «   .  >i  .i     .'  t 


J^     f . 


i'-Z 


1 


Senry  2:.  Gr,,u, 


Johnson.  Vx 


roUK 


^^l-^'<  <h  (Llirn^'L^ 


// 


€  f 


I,  ir2. /^^'/ 


I 


\S\\^'\^- 


>! 


t'S: 


y^)^^^. 


A\  y 


M 


f>,;l 


^^ 


AU  -'  t-  : 


H.  A  i .  L 


I  II 


•Ai 


'tmif- 


.:..,), 


THE 


// 


CANADIAN  CRUSOES: 


A  TALE  OF  THE  RICE  LAKE  PLAINS. 


BV 


CATHARINE  PARR  TRAILL, 

AUTBOR  OF  "  STORIES  OF  THE  CANADIAN  FOREST,"  ITO. 


<^ 


EDITED  BY  HER  SISTER, 

AGNES    STRICKLAND. 


C  V  /^  7 


-1 


cr^ 


«♦•■ 


/ 


o:?/    tff/  c  r  ^1 


BOSTON: 
HALL    AND    WHITING 

188L 


pll 

tll( 

tai 

pri 

is  ( 

tab 

gai 

cin 

ipor 

!tun 

[wit 

jwai 

Ifroi 

plie 

com 

llhe 

mffi 


PREFACE. 


It  will  1)0  acknowledj^L'd  llint  Imm.in  sym- 
pathy irrusistil)Iy  responds  ti»  any   narrative, 
luunded  on  truth,  wliidi  j;ra|tl»i('ally  (h-scrihes 
tlie  stniggles  ol'  isohited  human   i>('inj:;.s  to  uh- 
tain  the  aliments  oi"  lile.     'i'he  distinctions  of 
pride  and  rank  sink  into  nought  when  the  mind 
is  onj^aged  in  the  eontemplation  ol'  the  inevi- 
table   eonse(iuences  of    the   assaults   of  the 
gaunt  enemies,  cold  and  hunger.     Aecidental 
1  circumstances  have  usually  given  sufTicient  ex- 
perience of  their  pangs,  even  to  the  most  for- 
tunate,  to   make  them   own  a  fellow-feeling 
with  those  whom  the   chances  of  shipwreck, 
War,  wandering,  or  revolutions  have   cut  ofT 
[from  home  and  hearth,  and  the  requisite  sup- 
plies ;   not   only  from  the  thousand  artificial 
jcomforts  which  civilized  society  classes  among 
Lhe   uccessaries  of  life,  but  actually   from  a 
mfficioncy  of  "  daily  bread." 


8 


PREFACE. 


Where  is  the  man,  woman,  or  child  who  has 
not  sympatliized  witli  tlie  poor  seaman  belbre 
the  mast,  Alexander  Selkirk,  typified  by  the 
genius  of  Defoe  as  his  inimitable  Crusoe,  whose 
name  (although  one  by  no  means  uncommon  in 
middle  life  in  the  east  of  England)  has  become 
synonymous  for  all  who  build  and  plant  in  a 
wilderness,  "cut  off'  I'rom  humanity's  reach?" 
Our  insular  situation  has  chiefly  drawn  the 
attention  of  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain  to 
casualties  by  sea,  and  the  deprivations  of  indi- 
viduals wrecked  on  some  desert  coast ;  but  it  is 
by  no  means  generally  known  that  scarcely  a 
summer  passes  over  the  colonists  in  Canada, 
without  losses  of  children  from  the  ftimilies 
of  settlers  occurring  in  the  vast  forests  of  the 
backwoods,  similar  to  that  on  which  the  narra- 
tive of  th'^  Canadian  Crusoes  is  founded.  Many 
persons  thus  lost  have  perished  in  the  wilder- 
ness ;  and  it  is  to  impress  on  the  memory  the 
natural  resources  of  this  country,  by  the  aid 
of  interesting  the  imagination,  that  the  author 
of  the  well-known  and  popular  work,  "  The 
Backwoods  of  Canada,"  has  written  the  follow- 
ing pages. 


tl 


1 


PREFACE. 


9 


who  baa 
m  bel'ore 
1  by  the 
le,  whose 
mnion  in 
,s  become 
lant  in  a 
;  reach  ?" 
'awn   the 
Britain  to 
3  of  indi- 
but  it  is 
'carcely  a 
Canada, 
families 
s  of  the 
le  narra- 
Many 
e  wilder- 
nory  the 
the  aid 
e  author 
k,  "  The 
c  folluw- 


I 


She  has  drawn  attention,  in  the  course  of 
this  volume,  to  the  practical  solution*  of  that 
provoking  enigma,  which  seems  to  perplex  all 
anxious  wanderers  in  an  unknown  land,  namely, 
that  fiiuling  themselves,  at  the  end  of  a  day's 
toilsome  march,  close  to  the  spot  from  which 
they  set  out  in  tlie  morning,  and  that  this  cruel 
accident  will  occur  for  days  in  succession.  The 
escape  of  Captain  O'Brien  from  his  French 
prison  at  Verdun,  detailed  with  such  spirit  in 
his  lively  autobiography,  offers  remarkable  in- 
stances of  this  propensity  of  the  forlorn  wanderer 
in  a  strange  land.  A  corresponding  incident  is 
recorded  in  the  narrative  of  the  "  Escape  of  a 
young  French  Officer  from  the  d^pot  near 
Peterborough,  during  the  Napoleon  European 
war."  He  found  himself  thrice  at  night  within 
eight  of  the  walls  of  the  prison  from  which  he 
had  fled  in  the  morning,  after  taking  fruitless 
circular  walks  of  twenty  miles.  I  do  not  recol- 
lect the  cause  of  such  lost  labou"  being  explained 
in  either  narrative ;  perhaps  the  more  frequent 
occurrence  of  the  disaster  in  the  boundless  back- 

*  See  Appendix  A ;  likewise  p.  315. 


10 


PRKFACE. 


woods  of  the  Caiuulian  colonies,  forced  know- 
ledge, dearly  bought,  on  the  perceptions  of  the 
settlers.  Persons  who  wander  without  knowing 
the  features  and  landmarks  of  a  country  in- 
stinctively turn  their  faces  to  the  sun,  and  for 
that  reason  ahvaj-s  travel  in  a  circle,  infallibly 
finding  themselves  at  night  in  the  very  spot 
from  which  tliev  started  in  the  morninfjr. 

The  resources  and  natural  productions  of  the 
noble  colony  of  Canada  arc  but  superficially 
known.  An  intimate  acquaintance  with  its 
rich  vegetable  and  animal  productions  is  most 
effectually  made  under  the  high  pressure  of 
difficulty  and  necessity.  Our  writer  has  striven 
to  interest  children,  or  rather  young  people 
approaching  the  age  of  adolescence,  in  the 
natural  history  of  this  country,  simply  by 
showing  them  how  it  is  possible  for  children 
to  make  the  best  of  it  when  thrown  into  a  state 
of  destitution  as  forlorn  as  the  wanderers  on  the 
Rice  Lake  Plains.  Perhaps  those  who  would 
not  care  for  the  berry,  the  root,  and  the  grain,  as 
delineated  and  classified  technically  in  books  of 
science,  might  remember  their  uses  and  j)roper' 
ties  when  thus  brought  practically  before  their 


PREFACE. 


11 


ed  know- 
>ns  of  the 
i  knowing 
nintry  in- 
n,  and  for 
infallibly 
very  spot 

ons  of  the 

perficially 

with    its 

IS  is  most 

•essure  of 

as  striven 

g  people 

in    the 

raply    by 

children 

to  a  state 

ers  on  the 

10  would 

grain,  as 

books  of 

proper- 

Ifore  their 


notice  as  the  aliments  of  the  famishing  fellow- 
creature,  with  whom  their  instinctive  feelings 
must  perforce  sympathize.  When  parents  who 
have  left  home  comforts  and  all  the  ties  of 
gentle  kindred  for  the  dear  sakes  of  their  rising 
families,  in  order  to  place  them  in  a  more 
independent  position,  it  is  well  if  those  young 
minds  are  prepared  with  some  knowledge  of 
what  they  are  to  find  in  the  adopted  country ; 
the  animals,  the  flowers,  the  fruits,  and  even  the 
minuter  blessings  which  a  bountiful  Creator  has 
poured  forth  over  that  wide  land. 

The  previous  work  of  my  sister,  Mrs.  Traill, 
"  The  Backwoods  of  Canada,  by  the  Wife  of  an 
Emigrant  Officer,"  published  some  years  since 
by  Mr.  C.  Knight,  in  his  Library  of  Useful 
Knowledge,  has  passed  through  many  editions, 
and  enjoyed  (anonymous  though  it  was)  too 
wide  a  popularity  as  a  standard  work  for  me  to 
need  to  dwell  on  it,  further  than  to  say  that 
the  ])resent  is  written  in  the  same  naive,  charm- 
ing style,  with  the  same  modesty  and  uncom- 
pluii.iiig  spirit,  although  much  has  the  sweet 
and  gentle  author  endured,  as  every  English 
lady  must  expect  to  do  who  ventures  to  en- 


12 


PREFACE. 


counter  the  lot  of  a  colonist.  She  has  now 
devoted  her  further  years  of  experience  as  a 
settler  to  the  information  of  the  younger  class  of 
colonists,  to  open  their  minds  and  interest  them 
in  the  productions  of  that  rising  country,  which 
will  one  day  prove  the  mightiest  adjunct  of  the 
island  empire ;  our  nearest,  our  soundest  colony, 
unstained  with  the  corruption  of  convict  popu- 
lation ;  where  families  of  gentle  blood  need  fear 
no  real  disgrace  in  their  alliance ;  where  no  one 
need  beg,  and  where  any  one  may  dig  without 
being  ashamed. 

A.B. 


jre  no  one 


TEE 


CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


CHAPTEK    I. 


"  The  morning  had  shot  her  bright  streamers  on  high, 
0*>r  Cajiada,  opening  all  palo  to  the  sky; 
Still  dazzling  and  white  was  the  robe  that  she  wore, 
Except  where  the  ocean  wave  lash'd  on  the  shore." 

Jacobite  Song, 

There  lies  between  the  Rice   Lake   and   the 

Ontario  a  deep  and  fertile  valley,  surrounded  by 

lofty  wood-crowned  hills,  the  heights  of  which 

were  clothed   chiefly  with   groves  of  oak  and 

pine,  though   the    sides   of  the   hills  and  the 

alluvial  bottoms  gave  a  variety  of  noble  timber 

trees   of  various    kinds,  as   the  maple,  beech, 

hemlock,    and     others.      This    beautiful    and 

highly  picturesque  valley  is  watered   by  many 

clear  streams   of  pure    refreshing  water,  from 

whence  the    spot   has   derived   its  appropriate 

uppellation  of  "  Cold  Springs." 
2 


14 


THE   CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


At  tlie  time  my  little  history  commences,  thia 
now  liiglily  cultivated  spot  was  an  unbroken 
wilderness, — all  but  two  small  farms,  where 
dwelt  the  only  occupiers  of  the  soil, — which 
owned  no  other  possessors  than  the  wandering 
hunting  tribes  of  wild  Indians,  to  whom  the 
right  of  the  hunting  grounds  north  of  Rice  Lake 
appertained,  according  to  their  forest  laws. 

To  those  who  travel  over  beaten  roads,  now 
partially  planted,  among  cultivated  fields  and 
jflowery  orchards,  and  see  cleared  farms  and 
herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep,  the  change 
would  be  a  striking  one.  I  speak  of  the  time 
when  the  neat  and  flourishing  townof  Cobourg, 
now  an  important  port  on  the  Ontario,  was  but 
a  village  in  embryo — if  it  contained  even  a  log- 
house  or  a  block-house  it  was  all  that  it  did, 
and  the  wild  and  picturesque  ground  upon 
which  the  fast  increasing  village  of  Port  Hope 
is  situated,  had  not  yielded  one  forest  tree  to 
the  axe  of  the  settler.  No  gallant  vessel  spread 
her  sails  to  waft  the  abundant  produce  of  grain 
and  Canadian  stores  along  the  waters  of  that 
noble*  sheet  of  water ;  no  steamer  had  then 
furrowed  its  bosom  with  her  iron  wheels,  bear- 
ing the  stream  of  emigration  towards  the  wilds 
of  our  Northern  and  Western  forests,  there  to 
render  a  lonely  trackless  desert  a  fruitful  garden. 
What  will  not  time  and  the  industry  of  man, 


THE   CANADIAN   CliUSOES. 


15 


assisted  by  tlie  blessing  of  a  merciful  God, 
efTect  ?  To  him  be  the  glory  and  honour  ;  for  we 
are  taught,  that  "  without  the  Lord  build  the 
city,  their  labour  is  but  lost  that  build  it;  with- 
out the  Lord  keep  the  city,  the  watchman 
waketh  but  in  vain." 

But  to  my  tale.  And  first  it  will  be  necessary 
to  introduce  to  the  acquaintance  of  my  young 
readers  the  founders  of  our  little  settlement  at 
Cold  Springs. 

Duncan  Maxwell  was  a  young  Highland 
soldier,  a  youth  of  eighteen,  at  the  famous 
battle  of  Quebec,  where,  though  only  a  private, 
he  received  the  praise  of  his  colonel  for  bis 
brave  conduct.  At  the  close  of  the  battle 
Duncan  was  wounded,  and  as  the  hospital  was 
full  at  the  time  with  sick  and  disabled  men,  he 
was  lodged  in  the  house  of  a  poor  French 
Canadian  widow  in  the  Quebec  suburb ;  here, 
thou^^h  a  foreigner  and  an  enemy,  he  received 
much  kind  attention  from  his  excellent  hostess 
and  her  family,  which  consisted  of  a  young  man 
about  his  own  age,  and  a  pretty*  black-eyed  lass 
not  more  than  sixteen.  The  widow  Perron  was 
80  nmcli  occupied  with  other  lodgers — for  she 
kept  a  sort  of  boarding-house — that  slie  had  not 
much  time  to  give  to  Duncan,  so  that  he  was 
left  a  great  deal  to  her  son  Pierre,  and  a  little  to 
Catharine,  her  daughter. 


16 


THE    CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


.'I  i, 


Duncan  ^^IL\.\vell  was  a  fine,  open-tempered, 
frank  lad,  and  lie  soon  won  the  regard  of  Pierre 
and  Lis  little  sister.  In  spite  of  the  prejudices  of 
country,  and  the  ditference  of  language  and 
national  customs,  a  steady  and  increasinur  friend- 
ship  grew  up  between  the  young  Highlander  and 
the  children  of  his  hostess;  thei'cfore  it  was  not 
without  feelings  of  deep  regret  that  they  heard 
the  news,  that  the  corps  to  which  Duncan  be- 
longed was  ordered  for  embarkation  to  England, 
and  Duncan  was  so  far  convalescent  as  to  be 
pronounced  quite  well  enough  to  join  them, 
Alas  for  poor  Catharine  !  she  now  found  that 
parting  with  her  patient  was  a  source  of  the 
deepest  sorrow  to  her  young  and  guileless  heart ; 
nor  was  Duncan  less  moved  at  the  separation 
from  his  gentle  nurse.  It  might  be  for  years, 
and  it  might  be  for  ever,  he  could  not  tell; 
but  he  could  not  tear  himself  away  without 
telling  the  object  of  his  affections  how  dear  she 
was  to  him,  and  to  whisper  a  hope  that  he  might 
yet  return  one  day  to  claim  her  as  his  bride; 
and  Catharine,  weeping  and  blushing,  promised 
to  wait  for  that  happy  day,  or  to  remain  single 
for  his  sake,  while  Pierre  promised  to  watch  over 
his  friend's  interests  and  keep  alive  Catharine's 
love;  for,  said  he,  artlessly,  "  la  belle  Catrine  is 
pretty  and  lively,  and  may  have  many  suitors 
before  she  sees  you  again,  mon  ami." 


TIIK    CANADIAN    L'iilSOKS. 


17 


-tempered, 
1  of  Pierre 
}j  udices  of 
^uage  and 
inL?  friend- 
lander  and 
it  was  not 
Lliey  heard 
)uncan  be- 
J  England, 
t  as  to  bo 
join  them, 
found  that 
irce  of  the 
sless  heart ; 
separation 
for  years, 
not  tell; 
without 
dear  she 
he  might 
.is  bride; 
promised 
lain  single 
ratch  over 
itharine's 
yatrine  is 
\y  suitors 


Thov  sav  tlu'  comsr  of  true  love  never  did 
rua  sinootli ;  but,  wilii  the  exception  of  this 
great  sorrow,  the  sorrow  of  separation,  the  love 
of  our  young  Highland  soldier  and  his  betrothed 
knew  no  other  interruption,  for  absence  served 
oiilv  to  streiiLithen  the  ailection  which  was 
founded  on  gratitude  and  esteem. 

'J\vo  long  years  })assed,  however,  and  the 
prospect  of  reunion  was  yet  distant,  when  an 
aeeideut,  which  disabled  Duncan  from  serving 
his  couutiy,  enabled  him  to  retire  with  the 
usual  little  pension,  and  return  to  Quebec  to 
Heek  his  afUanced.  Some  changes  had  taken 
})lace  during  that  short  period :  the  widow 
Perron  was  dead;  Pieri'e,  the  gay,  lively-hearted 
Pierre,  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  lum- 
berer;  and  Catharine,  who  had  no  relatives  in 
Quebec,  had  gone  up  the  country  with  her 
brother  and  his  wife,  and  was  living  in  some 
little  settlement  above  Montreal  with  them. 

Thither  Duncan,  with  the  constancy  of  his 
nature,  followed,  and  shortly  afterwards  was 
married  to  his  faithful  Catharine.  On  one 
point  tlie}^  had  never  differed,  both  being 
of  the  same  religion. 

Pierre  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  fine 
country  on  the  shores  of  the  Ontario;  he  had 
been  hunting  with  some  friendly  Indians  be- 
tween tho  gieat  waters  and  the  Bice  Lake,  and 
2* 


18 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CUI  S(»i;s. 


I'M 


lie  *i()\v  tlioiiiiiit  if  I)mi(*;iii  ninl  liimsclf  could 
make  up  their  mimls  to  a  (piii't  life  iu  the 
woods,  there  was  not  a  better  spot  than  the  hill 
pass  between  the  plains  ami  the  bi<^  lake  to  ii\ 
theniseh^cs  Uj)()n.  Dunran  was  of  the  same 
opini(jn  when  lie  s;iw  the  spot.  It  was  imt 
rugged  and  bare  like  his  (jwn  Highlands,  but 
softer  in  ehai'aeter,  vet  his  heart  veaiuied  for 
the  hill  eountry.  in  those  days  there  was  no 
obstacle  to  taking  possession  of  any  tract  of 
land  in  the  unsurveyed  forests,  thei'el'ore  Duncan 
agreed  with  his  brothei'-in-law  to  pioneer  the 
way  with  him,  get  a  dwelling  put  up  and  some 
ground  prepared  and  "seeded  down,"  and  then 
to  return  for  their  wives  and  settle  themselves 
down  at  once  as  farmers.  Others  had  suc- 
ceeded, had  formed  little  colonies,  and  become 
the  heads  of  villages  in  due  time  ;  why  should 
not  thev?  And  now  behold  our  two  back- 
woodsmen  fairly  commencing  their  arduous  life ; 
but  it  was  nothing,  after  all,  to  Pierre,  by 
previous  occupation  a  hardy  lumberer,  or  the 
Scottish  soldier,  accustomed  to  brave  all  sorts 
of  hardships  in  a  wild  country,  himself  a  moun- 
taineer, inured  to  a  stormy  climate  and  scanty 
fare  from  his  earliest  youth.  But  it  is  not  my 
intention  to  dwell  upon  the  trials  and  difficulties 
courageouslv  met  and  battled  with  by  our  set 
tiers  and  their  young  wives. 


1  ii; 


rilK    CANADIAN    ClilSOKS. 


19 


There  \\'i\A  in  those  days  a  spirit  oC  irsistaiico 
aiiioiiu'  the  fii"st  settlers  on  the  S(^il,  a  spirit  to  do 
and  bear,  that  is  less  eijininoidy  met  with  now 
Th"'  spirit  of  civilization  is  now  so  widely  dif- 
liiscd,  that  her  eoinf'orts  ai'C  felt  even  in  tho 
depths  of  the  forest,  so  that  tiie  newly-eoine  end- 
l^raiit  leels  eonijtai'atively  few  of  the  ])hysieal 
evils  that  wei'e  endured  by  theolder  inhabitants. 

Tin.'   fii'st  seed-wheat  that    was  east   into  tho 
;^r()inid     by    Duncan   ami    Pierre,   was   brougiit 
with  iiilinit(.'  trouble  a  distance  of  lifty  miles  in 
:i  liitle  skiif.  navigated  alomj;  the  shores  of  the 
Ontario  by  the   adventurous  Pierre,  and  from 
Ithe    nearest  lnndin;Li-[)laee    transported    on    the 
shoulders  of  himself  and  Duncan  to  their  home- 
istead :    a  day  of  great   labour  but  great  joy  it 
[was  when  they  deposited  their  precious  freight 
[in    safetv   on    the    shantv    floor.      They   were 
)bli,ued  to  make  two  journeys  for  the  contents 
of  the  little  craft.     What  toil,  what  privation 
they  endured  for  the  first  two  years!  and  now 
the  fruits  of  it  began  slowly  to  appear.      No 
:wo  creatures  could  be  more  unlike  than  Pierre 
Liid   Duufan.     The  Highlander,   stern,   steady, 
nerscvering,  cautious,  always  giving  ample  rea- 
sons for  his  doing  or  his  not  doing.     The  Cana- 
liau,  ho|i<  I'lil,  lively,  fertile  in  expedients,  and 
^ay  as  a  lark ;  if  one  scheme  failed  another  was 
lure  to  present  itself     Pierre  and  Duncan  were 


20 


TIIK    CANADIAN    Clil'SoKS. 


1' 


lulinmiMy  suited  to  bo  frit'iuls  and  nrij^libours. 
^riio  steady  j)orsL'vorancc  of  the  Scot  helpcMl  t(! 
t(3nij)ur  the  volatile  tL'iii])L'raincnt  of  tluj  French* 
man.  They  generally  contrived  to  compass  the 
same  end  by  dillerent  means,  as  two  streams  de- 
scending IVom  opposite  hills  will  meet  in  one 
broad  river  in  tlie  same  valley. 

Years  passed  on  ;  tlu^  farm,  carefully  cultiva- 
ted, began  to  yield  its  increase,  and  food  and 
v/arm  clothing  wen;  not  wanted  in  the  home- 
steads. Catharine  had  become,  in  course  of  time, 
the  happy  mother  of  four  healthy  children  ;  her 
sister-in-law  had  even  exceeded  her  in  these 
welcome  contributions  to  the  population  of  a 
new  colony. 

Between  the  children  of  Pierre  and  Catharine 
the  most  charming  harmony  j)revailed;  they 
grew  u})  as  one  family,  a  pattern  of  all'ection  and 
early  friendship.  Though  different  in  tempers 
and  dispositions,  Hector  Maxwell,  the  eldest  son 
of  the  Scottish  soldier,  and  his  cousin,  young 
Louis  Perron,  were  greatly  attached  ;  they,  with 
the  young  Catharine  and  Mathilde,  formed  a  little 
coterie  of  inseparables;  their  amusi'iuents,  tastes, 
pursuits,  occupations,  all  blended  and  harmo- 
nized delightfully ;  there  were  none  of  those 
little  envyings  and  bickerings  among  them 
that  pave  the  way  to  strife  and  disunion  in  after 
life. 


THi:  ('A\Ai)iA\  cursoKs. 


21 


nci;^lil)onrs. 
t  hclpcMl  t(! 
llu;  French* 
H)inpiiss  the  ,| 
streams  dc- 
neet  in  one 

lUv  cultiva- 
tl  food  and 
the  home- 
urseoftime, 
lildrcn ;  her 
er  in  tlicse 
dation  of  a 

(1  Catharine 
died;  they 
tVeetion  and 
in  tempers 
e  eldest  son 
isin,  young 

they,  with 

rmed  ahttle 

jients,  tM8te.s, 

ind   liarmo- 

lie  of   thost 

nonu;   them  '| 

ion  in  aftei 


Cr.th.'irint'  M;in\v('11  and  licr  cousin  Loins  wore 
more  likf  hroili.T  and  sister  than  Ileetor  and 
Catluui,"',  hut  M.ithilde  was  gentK;  and  dove- 
like,  and  foriiK'd  ;i  c(Mitra?^t  U)  the  i^Tavity  of 
ll<M-tor  aii'l  tin-  viva(,'ity  of  Louis  and  Catharine. 

Ih'ctor  and  Louis  were  fmirtecn — strong^  vig- 
orous, iudustrinus,  and  hardy,  both  in  eonsti- 
tutit)n  and  hahiis.  The  gii'ls  were  tiirnt'd  of 
twelve.  It  is  not  with  Mathilde  that  our  st»)rv 
is  conneete<l,  hut  with  the  two  lads  and  Catha- 
rine. With  the  gayety  and  naivete  of  the 
Freneliwoiuan,  Catharine  possessed,  when  occa- 
sion called  it  into  action,  a  thoughtful  and  well- 
regtdated  mind,  abilities  which  would  well  have 
repaid  the  care  of  mental  cultivation ;  but  of 
bookdearning  she  knew  nothing  beyond  a  little 
reading,  and  that  but  imperfectly,  actjuired  from 
her  lather's  teaching.  It  was  an  accomplish- 
ment which  he  had  gained  when  in  the  army, 
having  been  taught  by  his  colonel's  son,  a  lad 
of  twelve  years  of  age,  who  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  him,  and  had  at  parting  given  him  a 
few  of  his  school-books,  among  which  was  a 
^i  estament,  without  cover  or  title-page.  At  part- 
ing, the  young  gentleman  recommended  its 
daily  perusal  to  Duncan.  Had  the  gift  been  a 
Bible,  perhaps  the  soldier's  obedience  to  his 
priest  might  have  rendered  it  a  dead  letter  to 
him,  but  as  it  fortunately  happened,  he  was  un- 


22 


THE    CANADIAN    Cia'SoES. 


I 

li 

I  J' ! 


m 


iiii'ii 


conscious  of  any  proliibition  to  deter  liim  from 
becoming  acquuinted  with  the  truths  of  the  Gos- 
peL  lie  communicated  the  power  of  perusing 
his  books  to  Ids  children  Hector  and  Catharine, 
Duncan  and  Kenneth,  in  succession,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  intense  reverence;  even  tlie  hd)our  of 
toachino;  was  reuTirded  as  a  holv  duty  in  itself, 
and  was  not  undertaken  without  deeply  impress- 
in":  the  obli<'ati()n  he  was  conferrinii'  uiion  them 
vvdienever  they  were  brought  to  the  task.  It 
was  indeed  a  ])recious  boon,  and  the  children 
learned  to  consider  it  as  the  pearl  beyond  all 
price  in  the  trials  that  awaited  them  in  their 
eventful  career.  To  her  knowledijfe  of  relimous 
truths  young  Catharine  added  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  the  songs  and  legends  of  her 
father's  romantic  country,  which  was  to  her 
even  as  fairyland.  Often  would  her  plaintive 
ballads  and  old  tales,  related  in  the  hut  or  the 
wigwam  to  her  attentive  auditors,  wile  away 
heavy  thoughts.  Louis  and  Mathilde,  her  cou- 
sins, sometimes  wondered  how  Catharine  had 
acquied  such  a  store  of  ballads  and  wild  tales 
as  she  could  tell. 

It  was  a  lovely  sunny  day  in  the  flowery 
month  of  June;  Canada  had  not  only  dcffed 
that  "dazzling  white  robe"  mentioned  in  the 
songs  of  her  Jacobite  emigrants,  but  had  as- 
sumed the  beauties  of  bor  loveliest  season,  the 


THE    CAXADIAN    Cltl'rfOES. 


MO 


last  week  ill  rvfay  and  the  (list  three  of  June 
beiiiLT  panillol  to  the  English  May,  I'lill  of  bud^ 
and  llowerri  and  lair  |)roniise  of  ripening  fruits. 
Tlie  high  slo[)iiig  hills  surrounding  the  fertile 
vale  of  Cold  Springs  were  clothed  with  the 
blossoms  of  the  iior<2'eous  scarlet  enchroma,  or 
j)ainte<l-cup  ;  the  large  ])ure  udiite  blossoms  of 
the  lily-like  trilliurn;  the  delicate  and  fragile 
lilac  geranium,  whose  graceful  flowers  woo  the 
hand  of  the  fk)wer-gathercr  only  to  iiide  almost 
within  his  gras});  the  golden  cyprepedium,  or 
mocassin  flower,  so  sin.  ular,  so  Lively  in  its 
colour  and  formation,  waved  heavily  its  yeUow 
blossoms  as  the  breeze  ghook  the  stems ;  and 
there,  min£!:lin"'  with  a  tliousand  various  floral 
beauties,  the  azure  lupine  claimed  its  place, 
shedding  almost  a  heavenly  tint  upon  the  earth. 
Thousands  of  roses  were  bloomino;  on  the  more 
level  ground,  sending  forth  their  rich  fragrance, 
mixed  with  the  delicate  scent  of  the  feathery 
ceanothus,  (New  Jersey  tea.)  The  vivid  green- 
ness of  the  young  leaves  of  the  forest,  the  tender 
tint  of  the  springing  corn,  were  contrasted  with 
the  deep  dark  fringe  of  waiving  pines  on  the 
hills,  and  the  yet  darker  shade  of  the  spruce 
and  balsams  »)n  the  borders  of  the  creeks,  for  so 
DMT  Canadian  fore^st  rills  are  universallv  termed 
The  bright  glancing  wings  of  the  summer  red- 
bird,  the  crimson-headed  woodpecker,  the  gay 


24 


TUK    CANADIAN    C'llL'SOES. 


li 

j! 

11 


1 

t     ,[l ' 

ill 

1  i 

1;  1' 
illill 

blue-bird,  and  noisy  hut  snlendid  })lumed  jay, 
rniiijlit  be  seen  arnonu:  tlic  branelies;  the  air  was 
filled  with  beauteous  siiifhts  and  soft  murmuring' 
melodies.  Under  the  shade  of  the  luxuriant 
hop- vines,  that  covered  the  rustic  porch  in  front 
of  the  little  dwelling,  the  light  step  of  Catharine 
Maxwell  might  be  heard  mixed  with  the  drowsy 
whirring  of  the  big  wheel,  as  she  passed  to  and 
fro  guiding  the  thread  of  yarn  in  its  course:  and 
now  she  sang  snatches  of  old  mountain  songs, 
such  as  she  had  learned  from  her  father ;  and 
now,  with  livelier  air,  hummed  some  gay  French 
tune  to  the  household  melody  of  her  spinning 
wheel,  as  she  advanced  and  retreated  with  her 
thread,  unconscious  of  the  laugjiing  black  eye 
that  was  watching  her  movements  from  among 
the  embowering  foliage  that  shielded  her  from 
the  morning  sun. 

"Come,  ma  belle  cousine,"  for  so  Louis 
delighted  to  call  her.  "  Hector  and  I  are 
waiting  for  you  to  go  with  us  to  the  *  Beaver 
Meadow.'  The  cattle  have  strayed,  and  we 
think  we  shall  find  them  there.  The  day  is 
delicious,  the  very  flowers  look  as  if  they 
wanted  to  be  admired  and  plucked,  and  we 
shall  find  early  strawberries  on  the  old  Indian 
clearing." 

Catharine  cast  a  longing  look  abroad,  but 
said,  '^  I  fear,  Louis,  I  cannot  go  to-day,  for  see, 


THE    CAXADIAX    CKrSC^ES. 


26 


I  have  all  these  rolls  of  wool  to  spin  up,  and 
my  yarn  to  wind  oil:'  the  reel  and  twist ;  and 
then,  my  mother  is  away." 

"  Yes,  T  left  her  with  mamma,"  replied 
Louis,  "  and  she  said  she  would  be  home 
shortly,  so  her  absence  need  not  stay  you.  She 
said  you  could  take  a  basket  and  try  and  bring 
home  some  berries  for  sick  Louise.  Hector  is 
suie  he  knows  a  spot  where  we  shall  get  some 
fine  ones,  ripe  and  red."  As  he  spoke  Louis 
whisked  away  the  big  wheel  to  one  end  of  the 
porch,  gathered  up  the  hanksof  yarn  and  tossed 
them  into  the  open  wicker  basket,  and  the  next 
minute  the  large,  coarse,  flapped  straw  hat  that 
hung  upon  the  peg  in  the  porch,  was  stuck,  not 
very  gracefully,  on  the  top  of  Catharine's  head 
and  tied  beneath  her  chin,  with  a  merry  rattling 
laugh,  which  drowned  etlectually  the  small 
lecture  that  Catharine  began  to  utter,  by  way  oi. 
reproving  the  light-hearted  boy. 

"  But  where  is  Mathilde  ?" 

"  Sitting  like  a  dear  good  girl,  as  she  is,  with 
eick  Louise's  head  on  her  lap,  and  would  not 
disturb  the  poor  sick  thing  for  all  the  fruit  and 
flowers  in  Canada.  Marie  cried  sadly  to  go 
with  us,  but  I  promised  her  and  petite  Louise 
lots  of  flowers  and  berries  if  we  get  them,  and 
the  dear  children  were  as  happy  as  queens  when 
I  left  them." 


■t;. 


2*3 


TllK    CAN  A  1)1  AX    Cia'SOKS. 


iiii 


jh'ii 


m 


ir 


"But  stny,  cousin,  jon  are  sure  my  rnoMier 
gave  her  consent  to  my  t2:oing?  W'v,  shall  l.'O 
awav  chief  ])art  of  the  (hvv.  You  know  it  is  a 
long  walk  to  the  Beaver  Meadow  and  back 
a2:ain,"  said  Catharine,  hesitatinof  as  Louis  took 
her  hand  to  lead  lier  out  from  the  porch. 

"Yes,  yes,  ma  belle,"  said  the  giddy  boy, 
quickly  ;  "so  come  along,  for  Hector  is  waiting 
at  the  barn;  but  stay,  we  shall  be  hungry  be- 
fore we  return,  so  let  us  have  some  cakes  and 
butter,  and  do  not  forget  a  tin-cup  for  water." 

Nothing  doubting,  Catharine,  with  buo^'ant 
spirits,  set  about  her  little  preparations,  which 
were  soon  completed  ;  but  just  as  she  was  leaving 
the  little  garden  enclosure,  she  ran  back  to  kiss 
Kenneth  and  Duncan,  her  young  brothers.  In 
the  farm-yard  she  found  Hector  with  his  axe  on 
his  shoulder.  "What  are  you  taking  the  axe 
for,  Hector?  you  will  find  it  heavy  to  carry," 
said  his  sister. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  have  to  cut  a  stick  of 
blue-beech  to  make  a  broom  for  sweeping  the 
house,  sister  of  mine ;  and  that  is  for  your  use, 
Miss  Kate ;  and  in  the  next  place,  I  have  to  find, 
if  possible,  a  piece  of  rock  elm  or  hickory  for 
axe  handles;  so  now  you  have  the  reason  why 
I  take  the  axe  with  me." 

The  children  now  left  the  clearing,  and  struck 
into  one  of  the  deep  defiles  that  lay  between 


THE    CANADIAN    Cia'SoKS. 


27 


nv  motlieT 


tl-f^  hillf^,  an<l  cheerfully  they  hiiiglied  and  sung 
fiiif]  chattered,  as  they  sped  on  their  pleasiuit 
path  ;  nor  were  they  loth  to  excliange  the  glow- 
ing sunshine  for  the  sober  gloom  of  the  forest 
shade.  What  handfuls  of  flowers  of  all  hues, 
red,  blue,  yellow,  and  white,  wei"e  gathered  only 
to  be  gazed  at,  carried  for  a  while,  then  cast 
aside  for  others  fresher  and  fairer.  And  now 
they  came  to  cool  rills  that  flowed,  softly  mur- 
muring, among  mossy  limestone,  or  blocks  of 
red  or  grey  granite,  wending  their  way  beneath 
twisted  roots  and  fallen  trees;  and  often 
Catharine  lingered  to  watch  the  eddying  dim- 
ples of  the  clear  water,  to  note  the  tiny  bright 
fragments  of  quartz  or  crystallized  limestone 
that  formed  a  shining  pavement  below  the 
stream  ;  and  often  she  paused  to  watch  the  angry 
movements  of  the  red  squirrel,  as,  with  feathery 
tail  erect,  and  sharp  scolding  m.te,  he  crossed 
their  woodland  path,  and  swiftly  darting  up  the 
rugged  bark  of  some  neighbouring  pine  or 
hemlock,  bade  the  intruders  on  his  quiet  haunts 
defiance ;  yet  so  bold  in  his  indignation,  he 
scarcely  condescended  to  ascend  beyond  theii 
reach. 

The  long-continued  hollow  tapping  of  the 
large  red-headed  woodpecker,  or  the  singular 
subterranean  sound  caused  by  the  drumming  of 
the  partridge,  striking  his  wings  upon  his  breast 


28 


'J'  1 1  !•:    C  A  N  A  I )  1  \  N    C ! :  I'SU  KS. 


hi\ 


I: 

i-ii 


iiiiji: 


to  woo  his  gentle  mate,  and  the  soft  wlii^pcrinj. 
note  of  the  little  tree-creeper,  as  it  flitted  from 
one  hemlock  to  another,  collecting  its  food 
between  the  fissures  of  the  bark,  were  among 
the  few  sounds  that  broke  the  noontide  stillness 
of  the  woods;  but  to  all  such  sights  and  sounds 
the  lively  Catharine  a.id  her  cousin  were  not 
indiffi'rent.  And  often  they  wondered  that 
Hector  gravely  pursued  his  onward  way,  and 
seldom  lingered  as  they  did  to  mark  the  bright 
colours  of  the  flowers,  or  the  bright  sparklirig  of 
the  forest  rill. 

"  What  makes  Ilec  so  grave  ?"  said  Catharine 
to  her  companion,  as  they  seated  themselves 
upon  a  mossy  trunk,  to  await  his  coming  up, 
for  they  had  giddily  chased  each  other  till  they 
had  far  outrun  him. 

"Hector,  sweet  coz,  is  thinking  perhaps  of 
how  many  bushels  of  corn  or  wheat  this  land 
would  grow  if  cleared,  or  he  may  be  examining 
the  soil  or  the  trees,  or  is  looking  for  his  stick 
of  blue-beech  for  your  broom,  or  the  hickory  for 
his  axe  handle,  and  never  heeding  such  non- 
sense as  woodpeckers  and  squirrels,  and  lihes 
and  moss  and  ferns,  for  Hector  is  not  a  giddy 
thing  like  his  cousin  Louis,  or — " 

"His  sister  Kate,"  inter  upk^d  Catharine, 
merrily;  "but  when  shall  we  come  to  the 
Beaver  Meadow '/" 


THH    CAN  AD!  W 


■SOK?. 


29 


"Patience,  ma  belle,  all  in  good  time.  ITark, 
was  not  that  the  ox- bell?  No;  Ilectoi 
whistling."  And  soon  they  heard  the  heavy 
stroke  of  his  axe  ringiniz;  atnonc;  the  trees,  for  he 
had  found  the  blue-beech,  and  was  cuttin£]j  it  to 
leave  on  the  path,  that  lie  might  take  it  home 
on  their  return ;  he  had  also  marked  some 
hickory  of  a  nice  size  for  his  axe  handles,  to 
bring  home  at  some  future  time. 

The  children  had  walked  several  miles,  and 
were  not  sorry  to  sit  down  and  rest  till  Hector 
joined  them.  lie  was  well  pleased  with  his 
succt3ss,  and  declared  he  felt  no  fxtigue.  "As 
soon  as  we  reach  the  old  Indian  clearing, 
we  shall  find  strawberries,"  he  said,  "  and  a 
fi-esh  cold  spring,  and  then  we  will  have  our 
dinners." 

"  Come,  Hector, — come,  Louis,"  said  Catha- 
rine, jumping  u[),  "I  long  to  be  gflthering  the 
strawberries ;  and  see,  my  flowers  are  faded, 
so  I  will  throw  them  away,  and  the  basket 
shall  be  filled  with  fresh  fruit  instead,  and  we 
must  not  forget  petite  Marie  and  sick  Louise, 
or  dear  Mathilde.  Ah,  how  I  wish  she  were 
here  at  this  minute!  But  here  is  the  opening 
to  the  Beaver  Meadow." 

And  the  sunli^'ht  was  seen  streamin;^  through 
the  opening  trees  as  they  approached  the 
cleared  space,  whicli  some  called  the  "  ludiau 


'i* 


30 


'II no    CANADIAN    CIlUSOKS. 


iiilb 


1 

iliii 


clc:iriii,u,"  but  is  now  more  generally  known  as 
the  little  IJeaver  Meadow.  It  was  a  })leasant 
spot,  green,  and  surrounded  with  light  bowery 
trees  and  flowering  shrubs,  of  a  different  growth 
(Voni  those  that  belong  to  the  dense  forest.  TI(^ro 
the  ehildren  found,  on  the  liilly  ground  idxn'c, 
line  I'ipe  strawberi'ies,  the  earliest  they  had  seen 
tliat  year,  and  st)on  all  w^'arincss  was  forgotten 
while  puisuing  the  delightful  oecupation  of 
gathering  the  tempting  fiaiit;  and  when  they 
had  refreshed  themselves,  and  iilled  the  basket 
with  leaves  and  fruit,  they  slaked  their  thirst 
from  the  stream,  whieh  wound  its  wav  amonu 
the  bushes.  Catharine  neglected  not  to  reach 
down  flowery  bunches  of  tlie  fragrant  white- 
thorn and  of  the  high-bush  cranberry,  then  ra- 
diant with  nodding  umbels  of  snowy  blossoms, 
or  to  wreathe  the  handle  of  the  little  basket  with 
the  graceful  trailing  runners  of  the  lovely  twin- 
flowered  plant,  the  Linucca  borealis,  which  she 
always  said  reminded  her  of  the  twins,  Louise 
and  Marie,  her  little  cousins.  And  now  the 
day  began  to  wear  away,  for  they  had  lingered 
l(Mig  in  the  little  clearing;  they  had  wandered 
from  the  path  by  which  they  entered  it;  and 
bad  neo'lccted,  in  their  ea2:erness  to  look  for  the 
Strawberries,  to  notice  any  particidar  mai'k  by 
which  they  might  regain  it.  Just  when  they 
began   to  think  of  returning,   Louis   notictjd  a 


'I'lIK    CANADIAN'    CUrSOKS. 


31 


oeiiten  path,  where  there  seemed  recent  prints  Oi 
cjuttle  lioui's  on  ii  soft  spongy  soil  beyond  the 
creek. 

"Come,  Ileetor,"  said  he  gayly,  "this  is 
hicky  ;  we  are  on  the  cattle  path  ;  no  fear  ])ul 
it  will  lead  us  directly  home,  and  that  by  a 
nearer  track." 

Hector  was  undecided  about  following  it,  he 
fancied  it  bent  too  niucii  towards  the  setting  sun  ; 
but  his  cousin  ovei'ruled  his  oi>j.,'clion.  "  And 
is  not  this  our  own  creek  ?"  he  said;  I  "  have 
often  heard  my  flither  say  it  had  its  rise  some- 
where about  this  old  clearing." 

Hector  now  thought  Jjouis  might  be  right, 
and  they  boldly  followed  the  path  among  the 
poplars  and  thorns  and  bushes  that  clothed 
its  banks,  surprised  to  see  how  open  the  ground 
became,  and  how  swift  and  clear  the  stream 
swept  onward. 

"Oh,  this  dear  creek,"  cried  the  delighted 
Catharine,  "  how  pretty  it  is  1  I  shall  often 
follow  its  course  after  this ;  no  doubt  it  has  its 
source  from  our  own  Cold  Springs." 

And  so  they  cheerfully  pursued  their  wa}', 
till  the  sun,  sinking  behind  the  range  of  westerly 
hills,  soon  left  them  in  gloom  ;  luit  they  anxiously 
hurried  forward  when  the  stream  wound  its  noisy 
Way  among  steep  stony  banks,  clothed  scantily 
with  pines    and  a   few   SL'utlere,!   silver-barke^l 


82 


THK    CANADIAN    CUrSoKS. 


popljirs.  AikI  how  tlioy  bi-camc  buwilderod  by 
two  j);iths  luatliu^^  in  opposite;  directions ;  one 
upwiii'tl  among  tlio  rocky  hills,  tlio  otlicr  through 
the  opening  gorge  of  a  deep  ravine. 

Here,  ov(3reome  with  fatigue,  Catharine  seated 
lierself  on  a  hirge  bhx.'k  of  granite,  near  a  great 
bushy  ].)ine  that  grew  beside  the  path  by  the 
ravine,  unable  to  proceed;  and  Hector,  with  a 
grave  and  troubled  countenance,  stood  beside 
her,  looking  round  with  an  air  of  great  per- 
plexity. Louis,  S(;ating  himself  at  Catharine's 
feet,  surveyed  the  dee{)  gloomy  valley  before 
them,  and  sighed  heavilv.  The  conviction  had 
now  forciblv  struck  him  that  thev  had  mistaken 
the  path  altogetiier.  The  very  aspect  of  the 
country  was  different ;  the  growth  of  the  trees, 
the  flow  of  tiie  stre;un,  all  indicated  a  change  of 
soil  and  scene.  Darkness  was  fast  drawing  its 
impenetrable  veil  around  them  ;  a  few  stars  were 
stealing  out,  and  gleaming  down  as  if  with 
pitying  glan(!e  upon  the  young  wanderers;  but 
they  could  not  light  up  their  pathway,  or  point 
their  homeward  track.  The  only  sound,  save 
the  lulling  murmui"  of  the  ri{)pling  stream  below, 
was  the  plaintive  note  of  the  whip-poor-will, 
from  a  gnarled  (xik  that  grew  near  them,  and 
the  harsh,  grating  scream  of  the  night-hawk, 
darting  about  in  the  higher  regions  of  the  air, 
pursuing  its  noisy  companions,  or  swooping  dowa 


TIIK   CANADIAN    CKLSOKS. 


<i3 


witli  that  peculiar  hollow  riisliiiiLT  sound,  a."-  -fa 
person  blowing  into  some  empty  vessel,  when  it 
sei/.es  with  wide-extended  bill  its  insc^et  prey. 

Hector  was  the  lirst  to  break  the  silence. 
"Cousin  Ijouis,  we  were  wrong  in  following  the 
Course,'  of  the  stream  ;  I  fear  we  shall  never  find 
our  wav  back  to-niyht." 

Louis  made  no  reply  ;  his  sad  and  subduetl  ail 
failed  not  to  attract  the  attention  of  his  cousins 

"Why,  Louis,  how  is  this?  you  are  not  used 
to  be  cast  (h)wn  by  diniculties,"  said  Hector,  as 
he  marked  something  like  tears  glistening  in 
the  dark  eyes  of  his  cousin. 

Louis's  heart  was  full,  he  did  not  reply,  but 
casta  troubled  glance  u})on  the  weary  Catharine, 
who  leaned  heavilv  a^iinst  the  tree  beneath 
which  slie  sat. 

"  It  is  not,"  resumed  Hector,  "  that  I  mind 
passing  a  summer's  night  under  such  a  sky  as 
this,  and  with  such  a  dry  grassy  bed  below  me; 
but  I  do -not  think  it  is  good  for  Catharine  to 
sleep  on  the  bare  ground  in  the  night  dews, — 
and  then  they  will  be  so  anxious  at  home 
about  our  absence." 

Louis  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed  out, — "And 
it  is  all  my  doing  that  she  came  out  with  us ; 
[  deceived  her,  and  mv  aunt  will  be  aimrv  and 
much  alarmed,  for  she  did  not  know  of  her 
going    at  all.      Dear   Catharine,    good   cousin 


Hi 

I* 


u 


TIIK    CAN  AIM  '.N    t  Kl'SOKS. 


[lector,  pray  r()r<^ivn  me!  "  l)iit  Catharine  was 
weeping  too  riiueh  to  ivply  to  his  passionate 
entreaties,  and  lleetor,  who  never  swerved  from 
the  truth,  for  which  he  had  ahnost  a  stern  rev- 
erence, liardly  repressed  his  indignation  at  what 
appeared  to  him  a  most  culpable  act  of  deceit  on 
the  part  of  Louis. 

The  si<'ht  of  her  cousin's  12'rief  and  S(;lf-abasc- 
riient  touched  the  t(!nder  heart  (jf  Catharine,  for 
she  was  kind  and  dove-liki;  in  her  disposition, 
and  loved  Louis,  with  all  his  faults.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  })ainful  coiKSciousness  of  the  grief 
their  unusual  absence  would  occasion  at  home, 
Catharine  would  have  t)ioug!it  nothing  of  their 
present  adventure  ;  bu^.  she  could  not  endure 
the  idea  of  her  liigh  principled  father  taxing 
her  with  deceiving  Lrr  kinvl,  indulgent  mother 
and  him.  It  was  tluF  humiliating  tluAight  wdiich 
wounded  the  proud  heart  of  Hector,  causing 
him  to  upbraid  hi3  cousin  in  somewhat  harsh 
terms  for  his  wsdiX  of  truthfulness,  and  steeled 
him  against  the  bitter  grief  tliat  wrung  the  heart 
of  the  penitent  Louis,  who,  leaning  his  wet 
cheek  on  the  shoulder  of  the  kinder  Catharine, 
Bobbed  as  if  nis  heart  would  break,  heedless  of 
her  soothing  words  and  affectionate  endeavours 
to  console  him. 

"  Dear  Hector,"  she  said,  turning  her  soft, 
pleading  eyes  on  the  stern  face  of  her  brother 


THE   CANADIAN    CliLSOKS. 


35 


*'yoii  must  not  bo  so  very  .'vngry  witli  poor 
Louis;  iciiit'inber  it  was  to  plcuso  inc,  and  givo 
me  the  enjoymiMit  of  a  day  of  liberty  with  you 
aud  himself  in  the  woods,  among  the  liowers  and 
trees  and  birds,  that  he  eonmiitted  this  fault." 

''Catharine,  Ijouis  s[)oke  an  untruth  and  aet* 
ed  decji'itfully,  and  look  at  the  eonsequenees, — 
we  shall  have  loj'feited  our  parents'  eonlidenee, 
and  may  have  some  days  of  piunful  privation  to 
endure  before  we  regain  our  home,  if  we  ever 
do  lind  our  way  back  to  Cold  Springs,"  replieil 
ileetor. 

"It  is  the  grief  and  anxiety  our  dear  parents' 
wdll  endure  this  night,"  answered  Catharine, 
"that  distresses  my  mind;  but,"  she  added,  in 
more  cheerful  tones,  "let  us  not  desjiair;  no 
doubt  to-morrow  we  shall  be  able  to  retrace  our 
steps."  0 

With  the  young  there  is  ever  a  magical  spell 
in  that  little  word  to-morrow, — it  is  a  point 
which  they  j)ursue  as  fast  as  it  recedes  from 
them.  Sad  indeed  is  the  young  heart  that  does 
not  look  forward  with  hope  to  the  morrow  1 

The  cloud  still  hung  on  Hector's  brow,  till 
Catharine  gayly  exclaimed,  "  Come,  Hector! 
come,  Louis!  we  must  not  stand  idling  thus; 
we  must  think  of  providing  some  shelter  for  the 
night;  it  is  not  good  to  rest  upon  the  bare 
ground,  exposed  to  the  night  dews.     See,  here 


t 


36 


THE    CANADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


Hi 

li 


j! 


is  a  nice  hut  half  made," — pointing  to  a  large 
upturned  root,  which  some  fierce  whirlwind  had 
hurled -from  the  lofty  bank  into  the  gorge  of  the 
dark  glen. 

"Now  you  must  make  haste,  and  lop  off  a 
few  pine  boughs,  and  stick  them  into  the  ground, 
or  even  lean  them. against  the  roots  of  this  old 
oak,  and  there,  3^ou  see,  will  be  a  capital  house 
to  shelter  us.  To  work,  to  work,  you  idle  boys 
or  poor  wee  Katty  must  turn  squaw  and  build 
her  own  wigwam,"  she  playfully  added,  taking 
up  the  axe  which  rested  against  the  feathery 
pine  beneath  which  Hector  was  leaning.  Now 
Catharine  cared  as  little  as  her  brother  and 
cousin  about  passing  a  warm  summer's  night 
under  the  shade  of  the  forest  trees,  for  she  was 
both  hardy  and  healthy ;  but  her  woman's 
heart  taiiuht  her  that  the  surest  means  of  recon- 
ciling  the  cousin  would  be  by  mutually  interest- 
ing them  in  the  same  object — and  she  was  right. 
In  endeavouring  to  provide  for  the  comfort  of 
their  dear  companion,  all  angry  feelings  were 
forgotten  by  Hector,  while  active  employment 
chased  i^  way  Louis's  melancholy. 

Unlike  the  tall,  straight,  naked  trunks  of  the 
pines  of  the  forest,  those  of  the  plains  are  adorn- 
ed with  branches  often  to  the  very  ground,  va- 
rying in  form  and  height,  and  often  presenting 
most  picturesque  groups,  or  rising  singly  among 


THE    CANADIAX    CRUSOES. 


37 


scattered  groves  of  the  silver-barked  poplar  or 
graeeful  birch-trees;  the  dark,  mossy  greennosa 
of  tlie  stately  })iiie  contrasting  finely  with  the 
lidit,  wavini'-  foliai2;e  of  its  slender,  n-raceful 
conipanions. 

Hector,  with  his  axe,  soon  lop[)ed  boughs 
from  one  of  the  adjacent  pines,  which  Louis 
sharpened  with  liis  knife,  and  with  Catharine's 
assistance  drove  into  the  ground,  arranging 
them  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  upturned 
oak,  with  its  roots  and  the  earth  which  adhered 
to  them,  form  the  back  part  of  the  hut,  which, 
when  completed,  formed  by  no  means  a  contempt- 
ible shelter.  Catharine  then  cut  fern  and  deer- 
grass  with  Louis's  couieau-de-chasse,  which  he 
always  carried  in  a  sheath  at  his  girdle,  and 
spread  two  beds,  one,  parted  off  by  dry  boughs 
and  bark,  for  herself,  in  the  interior  of  the  wig- 
wam, and  one  for  her  brother  and  cousin  nearer 
the  entrance.  AVhen  all  was  finished  to  her  satis- 
faction, she  called  the  two  boys,  and,  according 
to  the  custom  of  her  parents,  joined  them  in  the 
lifting  up  of  their  hands  as  an  evening  sacrifice 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  Nor  were  these 
bimple-hearted  children  backward  in  imploring 
help  and  protection  from  the  Most  High.  They 
earnestly  prayed  that  no  dangerous  creature 
might  come  near  to  molest  them  during  the 
hours   of   darkness  and    helplessness,    no   evil 


5i 
i 
0 


38 


THE    CAXADTAX   CHUSOES. 


spirit  visit  them,  no  unholy  or  wicked  thoughts 
intrude  into  their  minds ;  but  that  holy  angels 
and  heavenly  thoughts  might  hover  over  them, 
and  fill  their  hearts  with  the  peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding.  And  the  prayer  of 
the  poor  wanderers  was  heard ;  for  they  slept 
that  night  in  peace,  unharmed  in  the  vast  soli- 
tude.    So  passed  their  first  night  on  the  Plains, 


lii 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


39 


CHAPTER    II. 


**  Fear  not,  ye  are  of  more  value  tlian  many  spanow^s.'* 


I  ■  : 


'T^IIE  sun  had  risen  in  all  the  splendour  of  a 
-^  Canadian  summer  morning,  when  the  sleep- 
ers arose  from  their  leafy  beds.  In  spite  of  the 
novelty  of  their  situation,  they  had  slept  as 
soundly  and  tranquilly  as  if  they  had  been 
under  the  protecting  care  of  their  beloved  pa- 
rents, on  their  little  palliasses  of  corn  straw;  but 
they  had  been  cared  for  by  Him  who  neither 
slumbereth  nor  sleepeth,  and  they  waked  full 
of  youthful  hope,  and  in  fulness  of  faith  in  Hi3 
mercy  into  whose  hands  they  had  commended 
their  souls  and  bodies  before  they  retired  to 
rest. 

While  the  children  slept  in  peace  and  safety, 
what  terrors  had  filled  the  mind?  of  their  dis- 
tracted parents!  what  a  night  of  anguish  and 
sorrow  had  they  passed  ! 

When  night  had  closed  in  without  bringing 
back  the  absent  children,  the  two  fathars,  light- 
ing torches  of  fat  pine,  went  forth  in  search  of 
the  wanderers.  How  often  did  they  raise  their 
voices  in  hopes  their  loud  halloos  might  reach 


■K 


:j 


40 


THE    CAXADIAX    CRUSOES. 


11! 


the  hearing  of  the  lost  ones !  How  often  did 
thej  check  their  hurried  steps  to  listen  for  some 
replying  call  I  But  the  sighing  breeze  in  the 
pine  tops,  or  sudden  rustling  of  the  leaves 
caused  by  the  flight  of  the  birds,  startled  by 
the  unusual  glare  of  the  torches,  and  the  echoes 
of  their  own  voices,  were  the  only  sounds  that 
met  their  anxious  ears.  At  daybreak  they  re- 
turned, sad  and  dispirited,  to  their  homes,  to 
snatch  a  morsel  of  food,  endeavour  to  cheer  the 
drooping  hearts  of  the  weeping  mothers,  and 
hurry  off,  taking  different  directions.  But,  un- 
fortunately, they  had  little  clue  to  the  route 
which  Hector  and  Louis  had  taken,  there  being 
many  cattle  paths  through  the  woods.  Louis's 
want  of  truthfulness  had  caused  this  uncertainty, 
as  he  had  left  no  intimation  of  the  path  he  pur- 
posed taking  when  he  quitted  his  mother's  house ; 
he  had  merely  said  he  was  going  with  Hector  in 
search  of  the  cattle,  giving  no  hint  of  his  inten- 
tion of  asking  Catharine  to  accompany  them  : 
he  had  but  told  liis  sick  sister  that  he  would 
bring  home  strawberries  and  flowers,  and  that 
he  would  soon  return.  Alas,  poor  thoughtless 
Louis,  how  little  did  you  think  of  the  web  of 
woe  you  were  then  weaving  for  yourself,  and 
all  those  to  whom  you  and  jour  giddy  compan- 
ions were  so  dear!  Childien,  think  twice,  ere 
ve  deceive  once ! 


THE    CAXADIAX   CRL'SOES. 


41 


or  in 
nten- 
lem : 
v^ould 

that 
itless 
bof 

and 
pan- 
.  ere 


Catharine's  absence  would  have  been  quite 
Qnaccountable  but  for  the  testimony  of  Duncan 
and  Kenneth,  who  had  received  her  sisterly 
caresses  before  she  joined  Hector  at  the  barn ; 
and  much  her  mother  marvelled  what  could  have 
induced  her  good,  dutiful  Catharine  to  have  left 
her  work  and  forsaken  her  household  duties  to 
go  rambling  away  with  the  boys,  for  she  never 
left  the  house  when  her  mother  was  absent  from 
it  without  her  express  permission,  and  now  she 
was  gone — lost  to  them,  perhaps  for  ever.  There 
stood  the  wheel  she  had  been  turning,  there 
hung  the  untwisted  hanks  of  yarn,  her  morning 
task, — and  there  thev  remained  week  after  week 
and  month  after  month,  untouched,  a  melan- 
choly memorial  to  the  hearts  of  the  bereaved 
parents  of  their  beloved. 

It  were  indeed  a  fruitless  task  to  follow  the 
agonized  fathers  in  their  vain  search  for  their 
children,  or  to  paint  the  bitter  anguish  that  filled 
their  hearts  as  day  passed  after  day,  and  still  no 
tidings  of  the  lost  ones.  As  hope  faded,  a  deep 
and  settled  gloom  stole  over  the  sorrowing 
parents,  and  reigned  throughout  the  once  cheer- 
ful and  gladsome  homes.  At  the  end  of  a  week 
the  only  idea  that  remained  was,  that  one  of 
these  three  casualties  had  befallen  the  lost  chil- 
dren : — death,  a  lingering  death  by  famine ; 
death,  cruel  and  horrible,  by  wolves  or  bears ; 


42 


Till':    CANADIAN    Ci:rS()KS. 


i,; 


III 


I,, 
ijli 


or  yet  more  terrible,  with  tortures  by  the  hand? 
of  the  dreaded  Imhans,  who  oeeasionally  held 
their  councils  and  hunting  parties  on  the  hills 
about  the  Rice  Lake,  which  was  known  only  by 
the  elder  Perron  as  the  scene  of  many  bloody 
encounters  between  the  rival  tribes  of  the  Mo- 
howks  and  Chippewas :  its  locahties  were  scarcely 
ever  visited  by  our  settlers,  lest  haply  they  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  bloody  Mohawks, 
whose  merciless  dispositions  made  them  in  those 
days  a  by-word  even  to  the  less  cruel  Chippewas 
and  other  Indian  nations. 

It  was  not  in  the  direction  of  the  Rice  Lake 
that  Maxwell  and  his  brother-in-law  sousrht 
their  lost  children  ;  and  even  if  they  had  done 
so,  among  the  deep  glens  and  hill  passes  of 
what  is  now  commonly  called  the  Plains,  they 
would  have  stood  little  chance  of  discovering 
the  poor  wanderers.  After  many  days  of  fa- 
tigue of  body  and  distress  of  mind,  the  sorrow- 
ing parents  sadly  relinquished  the  search  as 
utterly  hopeless,  and  mourned  in  bitterness  of 
spirit  over  the  disastrous  fate  of  their  first  born 
and  beloved  children. — "There  was  a  voice  of 
woe,  and  lamentation,  and  great  mourning 
Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  and  refusing 
':o  be  comforted,  because  they  were  not." 

The  miserable  uncertainty  that  involved  the 
ia\e  of  the  lost  ones  was  an  aggravation  to  the 


J 


lit 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


48 


tlio  liandg 
allv  lu'ld 
I  the  liills 
1  only  by 

IV  bloody 
^^  the  M(  )- 
e  scarce! v 
ey  should 
foil  aw  ks, 
1  in  those 
hippevvas 

lice  Lake 

V  sought 
lad  done 
)asses  of 

ns,  they 
covering 
{s  of  fa- 
sorrow- 
arch  as 
rness  of 
rst-born 
i^oice  of 
urning 
refusing 

7ed  the 
1  to  the 


sufferings  of  the  mourners  :  could  they  but  have 
been  certified  of  the  manner  of  their  deaths,  they 
fancied  they  should  be  more  contented  ;  but, 
alas  !  this  fearful  satisfaction  was  withheld. 

"Oh,  were  their  tiile  of  sorrow  known, 
'Twere  sometliing  to  the  breukin*,'  heart, 
The  panels  of  doubt  would  tlien  be  g'one, 
And  fancy's  endless  dreams  depart." 

But  let  US  quit  the  now  mournlul  settlement  of 
the  Cold  Springs,  and  see  how  it  really  fared 
with  the  young  wanderers. 

When  they  awoke,  the  valley  was  filled  with 
a  white  creamy  mist,  that  arose  from  the  bed  of 
the  stream,  (now  known  as  Cold  Creek,)  and 
gave  an  indistinctness  to  the  whole  landscape, 
investing  it  with  an  appearance  perfectly  dif 
ferent  to  that  which  it  had  worn  by  the  bright, 
clear  light  of  the  moon.  No  trace  of  their  foot- 
steps remained  to  guide  them  in  retracing  their 
path*  so  hard  and  dry  was  the  stony  ground 
that  it  left  no  impression  on  its  surface.  It  was 
with  some  difficulty  they  found  the  creek,  which 
was  concealed  from  sight  by  a  lofty  screen  of 
gigantic  hawthorns,  high-bush  cranberries,  pop- 
lars, and  birch-trees.  The  hawthorn  was  in 
blossom,  and  gave  out  a  sweet  perfume,  not  less 
fragrant  than  the  "  May"  which  makes  the  lane? 
and  hedgerows  of  "  mcrrie  old  England"  so 
Bweet  and  fair  in  May  and  June,  as  chanted  in 


i 

I 
I 


•I 


44 


THE    CAXADIAX    CKUSOES. 


■it 


many  a  gcnjaine  pastoral  of  our  olden  lime , 
but  when  our  simple  Catharine  drew  down  the 
flowery  branches  to  wreathe  about  her  hat,  she 
loved  the  rlOwers  for  their  own  native  sweetness 
and  beauty,  not  because  poets  had  sung  of  them  ; 
— but  young  minds  have  a  natural  poetry  in 
themselves,  unfettered  by  rule  or  rhyme. 

At  length  their  path  began  to  grow  more  dif- 
ficult. A  tangled  mass  of  cedars,  balsams,  birch, 
black  ash,  aiders,  and  tamarack  (Indian  name 
for  the  larch,)  with  a  dense  thicket  of  bushes 
and  shrubs,  such  as  love  the  cool,  damp  soil  of 
marshy  ground,  warned  our  travellers  that  they 
must  quit  the  banks  of  the  friendly  stream,  or 
they  might  become  entangled  in  a  trackless 
swamp.  Having  taken  copious  and  refreshing 
drafts  from  the  bright  waters,  and  bathed  their 
hands  and  faces,  they  ascended  the  grassy  bank, 
and  again  descending,  found  theniselves  in  one 
of  those  long  valleys,  enclosed  between  lofty, 
sloping  banks,  clothed  with  shrubs  and  oaks, 
with  here  and  there  a  stately  pine.  Through 
this  second  valley  they  pursued  their  way,  till 
emerging  into  a  wider  space,  they  came  among 
those  singularly  picturesque  groups  of  rounded 
gravel  hills,  where  the  Cold  Creek  once  more 
met  their  view,  winding  its  way  towards  a  grove 
of  evergreens,  where  it  was  again  lost  to  the  eye. 

This  lovely  spot  is  now  known  as  Sackville'a 


< 


THK    CANADIAN    CUL'SOES. 


46 


len  time , 
down  the 
T  hat,  she 
sweetness 
J  of  them ; 
poetry  in 
lie. 

more  clif- 

ms,  birch, 

ian  name 

Df  bushes 

p  soil  of 

that  they 

tream,  or 

trackless 

efreshing 

led  their 

sy  bank, 

s  in  one 

n  lofty, 

id  oaks, 

^hrough 

v^ay,  till 

among 

ounded 

e  more 

a  grove 

the  eye. 

kville'g 


Mill-dike.  The  hand  of  man  has  curbed  the 
free  course  of  the  wild  forest  stream,  and  made 
it  subservient  to  his  will,  but  could  not  destroy 
the  natural  beauties  of  the  scene.* 

Fearing  to  entangle  themselves  in  tlie  swamp, 
they  kept  the  hilly  gi'ound,  winding  their  way 
■ap  to  the  summit  oC  thi^  lofty  i-idu'e  of  the  oak 
hills,  the  highest  iiround  thov  liad  vet  attained* 
and  here  it  was  that  the  silver  waters  of  the 
Rice  Lake  in  all  its  beauty  burst  upon  the 
eyes  of  the  wondering  and  delighted  travellers. 
There  it  lay,  a  sheet  of  liquid  silver  just 
emerging  from  the  blue  veil  of  mist  that  hung 
upon  its  surface,  and  concealed  its  wooded  shores 
on  either  side.  All  feeling  of  dread'and  doubt 
and  danger  was  lost,  for  the  time,  in  one  rapturous 
glow  of  admiration  at  a  scene  so  unexpected 
and  so  beautiful  as  that  vvdiich  thev  now  f^azed 
upon  from  the  elevation  they  had  gained.  From 
this  rido^e  thev  looked  down  the  lake,  and  the 
eye  could  take  in  an  extent  of  many  miles,  with 
its  verdant  wooded   islands,  which  stole  into 

*  This  place  was  originally  owned  by  a  man  of  faste,  whc 
resided  for  some  time  upon  the  spot,  till  finding  it  convenient 
to  return  to  his  native  country,  the  suw-mill  passed  into  othei 
hands.  The  old  log-house  on  tlie  green  bank  a\>ove  the  mill- 
stream  is  still  standing,  though  deserted  ;  the  garden-fence, 
Diuken  and  dilapidated,  no  loutfer  protects  the  enclosure,  wliero 
Mic  wild  rose  mingles  with  that  of  I'rovence, — the  Cauadiar 
»reepcr  with  the  hop. 


46 


'I'lIK    CANADIAN    CKl'SOKS. 


view  one  bv  one  as  the  rays  of  the  mornin"  sun 
drew  up  the  moving  curtain  of  mist  that  en- 
veh)pecl  them ;  and  soon  both  northern  and 
soutliern  shores  became  distinctly  visibl(>,  with 
all  tliL'ir  bays  and  capes  and  swelling  oak  and 
pine-crowned  hills. 

And  now  arose  the  question,  "Where  are 
we?  What  lake  is  this?  Can  it  be  the  Onta- 
rio, or  is  it  the  llice  Lake?  Can  yonder  shores 
be  those  of  the  Americans,  or  are  they  the 
hunting-grounds  of  the  dreaded  Indians?"  Ilec 
tor  remembered  having  often  lieard  his  father 
say  that  the  Ontario  was  like  an  inland  sea,  and 
the  opposite  shores  not  visible  unless  in  some 
remarkable  state  of  the  atmosj)here,  when  they 
had  been  occasionally  discerned  by  the  naked 
eye,  while  here  they  could  distinctly  see  objects 
on  the  other  side,  the  peculiar  growth  of  the 
trees,  and  even  flights  of  wild  fowl  winging 
their  way  among  the  rice  and  low  bushes  on 
its  margin.  The  breadth  of  the  lake  from  shon 
to  shore  could  not,  they  thought,  exceed  three 
or  four  miles;  while  its  length,  in  an  easterly- 
direction,  seemed  far  greater  beyond  what  the 
eye  could  take  in.* 


*  Tlie  length  of  the  Kice  Lake,  from  its  lieadwaters  near 
Bhiok's  Landing  to  tlie  mouth  of  tlie  Trent,  is  tiaiil  to  b« 
twiMity-tive  miles;  its  breadth  from  north  to  south  vuries  froir 
three  to  six. 


TIIK   CANADIAN'    CIirStjKS. 


47 


They  now  (iuitUMJ  iIil'  loCty  r"Kl<^e,  luul  bent 
their  stops  to  winds  the  hike.  W(3aried  with 
their  walk,  they  seated  themselves  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  beautiful  feathery  pine,  on  a  high 
promontory  that  commanded  a  magnificent  view 
down  the  lake. 

*'  How  pleasant  it  would  be  to  have  a  house 
on  this  delightful  bank,  ovi-rlooking  the  lake," 
said  Louis;  "only  think  of  the  fish  we  could 
take,  and  the  ducks  and  wild  fowl  we  could 
shoot  1  and  it  would  be  no  very  hard  matter  to 
LoUow  out  a  log  canoe,  such  a  one  as  I  have 
heard  my  father  say  he  has  rowed  in  across 
many  a  lake  and  broad  river  below,  when  he 
was  lumbering." 

"  Yes,  it  would,  indeed,  be  a  pleasant  spot  to 
live  upon,"*  said  Hector,  "though  I  am  not 
quite  sure  that  the  land  is  as  good  just  here 
as  it  is  at  Cold  Springs  ;  but  all  these  flats  and 
rich  valleys  would  make  fine  pastures,  and  pro- 
duce plenty  of  grain,  too,  if  cultivated." 

"You  always  look  to  the  main  chance,  Ilec," 
said  Louis,  laughing;  "well,  it  was  worth  a 
few  hours'  walking  this  morning  to  look  upon 


tl 


*  Now  tho  site  of  a  i)leas!int  (.'ottuiro,  erected  by  an  enter 
prisin<j    gentleman    from    Devonshire,   who    has   cleared   and 
cultivated   a    considerable    portion   of   the    j^round   described 
Above;   a  spot  almost  unequalled  in  tlie  plains  for  its  natural 
beauties  and  extent  of  prospect. 


48 


TllK    (AN  A  I  Man    I'lU'SOKS. 


Hi  I 


f 


'ilii 


Mi\i 


fiO 


lovely  Ji  slicct  of  wjitcr  as  tliis.     T 


won 


Id 


spend  two  nights  in  a  wigwam, — would  not  you, 
ma  belle? — to  enjoy  sueh  a  sight." 


(( 


Y 


es. 


iOUlS 


V 


re 


)lied   his   eoiusin,  hesitatinij; 


hs  she  spoke  ;  "  it  is  very  pretty,  and  T  did  not 
mind  slee[)ing  in  the  little  hut;  but  then  T 
cannot  enjoy  rnys(^lf'  iis  mueh  as  1  should  have 
done  had  my  fathei*  and  mother  been  aware  of 
my  intcMition  of  aeoompanying  you.  y\h,  my 
deal",  d(^ar  j)arents!''  she  added,  as  the  tliought 
of  tli(^  anguish  the  absence  of  her  companions 
and  herself  would  cause  at  home  crime  over 
her.  "How  I  wish  T  had  remained  at  home  I 
Selfish  Catharine!  foolish,  idle  girl !" 

Poor  Louis  was  overwhelmed  with  grief  at 
the  sight  of  his  cousin's  tears,  and  as  the  kind- 
hearted  but  thoughtless  boy  bent  over  her  to 
soothe  and  console  her,  his  own  tears  fell  upon 
the  fair  locks  of  the  weeping  gii'l,  and  bedewed 
the  hand  he  held  between  his  own. 

"  If  you  cry  thus,  cousin,"  he  whispered,  "  you 
will  break  poor  Louis's  heart,  already  sore  enough 
with  thinking  of  his  foolish  conduct." 

"Be  not  cast  down,  Catharine,"  said  her 
brother,  cheeringly  ;  "  we  may  not  be  so  far 
from  home  as  you  think.  As  soon  as  you  are 
rested  we  will  set  out  again,  and  we  may  find 
something  to  eat ;  there  must  be  strawberries  on 
Vhese  sunnj^  banks." 


ilili 


TIIK    CANADIAN'    CIU'.SOKS. 


r   would 
not  you, 

c'sitating 

did  not 

thou  I 

lid  bavo 

I  ware  of 

All,  niv 

thought 

i])anioMS 

!uo  over 

t  home  I 

grief  at 
le  kind- 
lier to 
ill  upon 
bedewed 


I,  ''you 
enough 


lid  her 
so  far 
k^ou  are 
lay  find 
rrics  CD 


Catharine  soon  yielded  to  the  voicv3  of  her 
brother,  and  drying  her  eyes,  proceeded  to  de- 
«cend  the  sides  of  the  steep  valley  that  lay  to 
onec  side  of  the  high  ground  where  they  had 
been  sitting. 

Suddenly  darting  down  the  bank,  she  ex- 
claimed,  ''Come,  Hector;  come,  Louis:  hero 
indeed  is  provision  to  keep  us  from  starving;" 
— for  her  eye  had  caught  the  bright  red  straw- 
berri(3s  among  the  flowers  and  herbage  on  tho 
jlope ;  large,  ripe  strawberries — the  very  liuest 
ihc  had  ever  seen. 

"There  is  indeed,  ma  belle,"  said  Louis, 
stooping  as  he  s}>oke  to  gather  up,  not  the  fruit, 
but  a  dozen  fi-esh  partridge  eggs  from  the  inner 
shade  of  a  thick  tuft  of  grass  and  herbs  that 
grew  beside  a  fallen  tree.  Catharine's  voice  and 
sudden  movements  had  stai'lled  the  partridge* 
from  her  nest,  and  the  eggs  were  soon  trans- 
ferred to  Louis's  straw  hat,  while  a  stone  flung 
by  the  steady  hand  of  liector  stunned  the  pa- 
rent bird.  The  boys  laughed  exultingly  as  they 
displayed  their  prizes  to  the  astonished  Catha- 
rine, who,  in  spite  of  hungei',  could  not  help  re- 
gretting the  death  of  the  mother  bird.  Girls  and 
women  rarely  sympathize  with  men  and  boys 
in  their  field  sports,  and  Hector  laughed  at  his 

*  The  CanadiHu  partridge  is  a  specio?  of  grouse,  larger  thau 
the  English  or  Frefisjh  partridge. 
5 


s 


I' 


f 


i  i 


60 


THE    CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


:^!i!!iiii  \ 


inll 

■■!l^ 


sister's  doleful  looks  as    he   handed  over  the 
bird  to  her. 

**  It  was  a  lucky  chance,"  said  b^ ,  "  and  tho 
stone  was  well  aimed,  but  it  is  not  the  first 
partridge  that  1  have  kiHed  in  this  way.  They 
are  so  stupid  you  may  even  run  them  down  at 
times ;  I  hope  to  get  another  before  the  day  ia 
over.  Well,  there  is  no  fear  of  starving  to-day, 
at  all  events,"  he  added,  as  he  inspected  the  con- 
tents of  his  cousin's  hat ;  "  twelve  nice  fresh 
eggs,  a  bird,  and  plenty  of  fruit." 

"  But  how  shall  we  cook  the  bird  and  the 
eggs?  We  have  no  means  of  getting  a  fire 
made,"  said  Catharine. 

"  As  to  the  eggs,"  said  Louis,  "  we  can  eat 
them  raw";  it  is  not  for  hungry  wanderers  like 
us  to  be  over  nice  about  our  food." 

"They  would  satisfy  us  much  better  were 
they  boiled,  or  roasted  in  the  ashes,"  observed 
Hector. 

"  True.  Well,  a  fire,  I  think,  can  be  got  with 
a  little  trouble." 

"  But  how  ?"  asked  Hector. 

"Oh,  there  are  many  ways,  but  the  readiest 
would  be  a  flint  with  the  help  of  my  knife." 

"A  flint?" 

"  Yes,  if  we  could  get  one — but  I  see  nothing 
but  granite,  which  crumbles  and  shivers  when 
struck — we  could  not  get  a  spark.     However, 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


51 


I  think  it's  very  likely  that  one  of  the  round 
pebbles  I  see  on  the  beach  yonder  may  be  found 
hard  enough  for  the  purpose." 

To  the  shore  they  bent  their  steps  as  soon  as 
the  little  basket  had  been  well  filled  with  straw- 
berries, and  descending  the  precipitous  bank, 
fringed  with  young  saplings,  birch,  ash,  and 
poplars,  they  quickly  found  themselves  beside 
the  bright  waters  of  the  lake.  A  flint  was  soon 
found  among  the  water-worn  stones  that  lay 
thickly  strewn  upon  the  shore,  and  a  handful 
of  dry  sedge,  almost  as  inflammable  as  tinder, 
was  collected  without  trouble ;  though  Louis, 
with  the  recklessness  of  his  nature,  had  coolly 
proposed  to  tear  a  strip  from  his  cousin's 
apron  as  a  substitute  for  tinder, — a  proposal 
that  somewhat  raised  the  indignation  of  the 
tidy  Catharine,  whose  ideas  of  economy  and 
neatness  were  greatly  outraged,  especially  as 
she  had  no  sewing  implements  to  assist  in 
mending  the  rent.  Louis  thought  nothing  of 
that;  it  was  a  part  of  his  character  to  think 
only  of  the  present,  little  of  the  past,  and  to  let 
the  future  provide  for  itself.  Such  was  Louis's 
great  failing,  which  had  proved  a  fruitful  source 
of  trouble  both  to  himself  and  others.  In  this 
respect  he  bore  a  striking  contrast  to  his  more 
cautious  companion,  who  possessed  much  of  the 
gravity  of  his  father.     Hector  was  as  heedful 


!1 


^ 


•  ^ 


^ 
k 


52 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


■i'l! 


[lili 


and   steady  in  his  decisions  as  Louis  was  rash 
and  impetuous. 

After  many  futile  attempts,  and  some  skin 
knocked  off  their  knuckles  through  awkward 
handling  of  the  knife  and  flint,  a  good  fire 
was  at  last  kindled,  as  there  was  no  lack  of 
dry  wood  on  the  shore ;  Catharine  then  triumph- 
antly produced  her  tin  pot,  and  the  eggs  were 
boiled,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties, 
who  were  by  this  time  sufficiently  hungry, 
having  eaten  nothing  since  the  previous  even- 
ing more  substantial  than  the  strawberries  they 
had  taken  during  the  time  they  were  gathering 
them  in  the  morning. 

Catharine  had  selected  a  pretty,  cool,  shady 
recess,  a  natural  bower,  under  the  overhanging 
growth  of  cedars,  poplars,  and  birch,  which 
were  wreathed  together  by  the  flexile  branches 
of  the  vine  and  bitter-sweet,  which  climbed  to 
a  heio;ht  of  fifteen  feet*  amonoj  the  branches 
of  the  trees,  which  it  covered  as  with  a  mantle. 
A  pure  spring  of  cold,  delicious  water  welled 
out  from  beneath  the  twisted  roots  of  an  old 
hoary-barked  cedar,  and  found  its  way  among 
the  shingles  on  the  beach  to  the  lake,  a  humble 

*  Solannrn  dulcamara, — Bitter-sweet  or  Woody  nicrl..,9liiide. 
Tills  phuit  is  liiLrlily  oriuiincntal.  It  possesses  powerful  prop- 
erties us  >i  tuediciue,  aud  is  iu  high  reputatiou  lusong  tho 
Iiidiauh. 


THE    CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


63 


but  constant  tributary  to  its  waters.  Some 
large  blocks  of  water- worn  stone  formed  conve- 
nient seats  and  a  natural  table,  on  which  the 
little  maiden  arrang^ed  the  forest  fare ;  and  never 
was  a  meal  made  with  greater  appetite  or  taken 
with  more  thankftdness  than  that  which  our 
wanderers  ate  that  morning.  The  eggs  (part  of 
which  tliey  reserved  for  another  time)  were 
declared  to  be  better  than  those  that  were  daily 
produced  from  the  little  hen-house  at  Cold 
Springs.  The  strawberries  set  out  in  little  pot- 
tles made  with  the  shinin<?  leaves  of  the  oak, 
ingeniously  pinned  together  by  Catharine  with 
the  long  spurs  of  the  hawthorn,  were  voted 
delicious,  and  the  pure  water  most  refreshing, 
that  they  drank,  for  lack  of  better  cups,  from 
a  large  mussel-shi:ill  which  Catharine  had  picked 
up  among  the  weeds  and  pebbles  on  the  beach. 
Many  children  would  have  wandered  about 
weeping  and  disconsolate,  lamenting  their  sad 
fate,  or  have  embittered  the  time  by  useless  re- 
pining, or,  perhaps,  by  venting  their  uneasiness 
in  reviling  the  principal  author  of  their  calamity 
— poor,  thoughtless  Louis;  but  such  were  not 
the  dispositions  of  our  young  Canadians.  Early 
accustomed  to  the  hardships  incidental  to  the 
lives  of  the  settlers  in  the  bash,  these  young 
people  had  learned  to  bear  with  patience  and 
cheerfulness^  privations  that  would  have  crushed 


in 


va 


54 


THE   CAXADTAX    CRl'SOES. 


tlic  spirits  of  cliildrcn  more  delicately  nurtured. 
They  had  known  every  degree  of  hunger  and 
nakedness ;  during  the  first  few  years  of  their 
lives  they  had  often  been  compelled  to  subsist 
for  days  and  weeks  upon  roots  and  herbs,  wild 
fruits,  and  game  which  their  fathers  had  learned 
to  entrap,  to  decoy,  and  to  shoot.  Thus  Louis 
and  Hector  luid  earlv  been  initiated  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  chase.  They  could  make  dead- 
falls,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  snares, — the)^  were 
as  expert  as  Indians  in  the  use  of  the  bow, — 
they  could  pitch  a  stone,  or  fling  a  wooden  dart 
at  partridge,  hare,  and  squirrel,  with  almost  un- 
erring aim;  and  were  as  swift  of  foot  as  young- 
fawns.  Now  it  was  that  they  learned  to  value 
in  its  fullest  extent  this  useful  and  practical 
knowledge,  which  enabled  them  to  face  with 
fortitude  the  privations  of  a  life  so  precarious  as 
that  to  which  they  were  now  exposed. 

It  was  one  of  the  elder  Maxwell's  maxims, — 
Never  let  difficulties  overcome  you,  but  rathei 
strive  to  conquer  them  ;  let  the  head  direct  the 
hand,  and. the  hand,  like  a  well-disciplined  sol- 
dier, obey  the  head  as  chief.  When  his  chil- 
dren 'jxnressed  anv  doubts  of  not  beinsf  able  to 
accom{)lish  any  work  they  had  begun,  he  would 
say,  "Have  you  not  hands,  have  you  not  a 
head,  have  you  not  eyes  to  see,  and  reason  to 
guide  you  ?     As  for  impossibilities,  they  do  not 


THE   CANADIAN   CRl'SOKS. 


55 


belong  to  the  trade  of  ;i  soldier,- -be  dare  not 
see  them."  Thus  were  energy  and  perseverance 
earlyinstilled  into  the  minds  of  his  children; 
they  were  now  called  upon  to  give  practical 
proofs  of  the  precepts  that  had  been  taught  them 
in  childhood.  Hector  trusted  to  his  axe,  and 
Louis  to  h\s couteau-de-chasse'^'  and  pocket-knife; 
the  latter  was  a  present  from  an  old  forest  friend 
of  his  father's,  who  had  visited  them  the  previous 
winter,  ar>d  which,  by  good  luck,  Louis  had  in 
his  pocket, — a  capacious  pouch,  in  wdiich  were 
stored  many  precious  things,  such  as  coils  of 
twine  and  string,  strips  of  leatlier,  with  odds  and 
ends  of  various  kinds;  nails,  bits  of  iron,  leather, 
and  such  .miscellaneous  articles  as  find  their  wav 
most  mysteriously  into  boys'  pockets  in  general, 
and  Louis  Perron's  in  particular,  who  was  a 
wonderful  collector  of  such  small  matters. 

The  children  were  not  easily  daunted  by  the 
prospect  of  passing  a  few  days  abroad  on  so 
charming  a  spot,  and  at  such  a  lovely  season, 
where  fruits  were  so  abundant ;  and  when  they 
had  finished  their  morning  meal,  so  providen- 
tially placed  within  their  reach,  they  gratefully 
acknowledged  the  mercy  of  God  in  this  thing. 

Having  refreshed  themselves  by  bathing  their 
bands  and  faces  in  the  lake  they  cheerfully  ro- 


^ 


i 
;    I 


*  Huntinff-ki.ife. 


56 


THE   CANADTAX   CRUSOES. 


iiiiiiii 


p  i.'i 


m 


Hi 


I': 


1,1. 


newed  their  wanderings,  though  something  loth 
to  leave  the  cool  shade  and  the  spring  for  an 
untrodden  path  among  the  hills  and  deep  ravines 
that  furrow  the  shores  of  the  Eice  Lake  in  so 
remarkable  a  manner  ;  and  often  did  our  weary 
wanderers  pause  to  look  upon  the  wild  glens  and 
precipitous  hills,  where  the  fawn  and  the  shy 
deer  found  safe  retreats,  unharmed  by  the  rifle 
of  the  hunter, — where  the  osprey  and  white- 
headed  eagle  built  their  nests,  unheeding  and 
unharmed.  Twice  that  day,  misled  by  follovving 
the  track  of  the  deer,  had  they  returned  to  the 
same  spot, — a  deep  and  lovely  glen,  which  had 
once  been  a  water-course,  but  now  a  green  and 
shady  valley.  Thi^  they  named  the  Valley  of 
the  Kock,  from  a  remarkable  block  of  red  granite 
that  occupied  a  central  position  in  the  narrow 
defile ;  and  here  they  prepared  to  pass  the  second 
night  on  the  Plains.  A  few  boughs  cut  down 
and  interlaced  with  the  shrubs  round  a  small 
space  cleared  with  Hector's  axe,  formed  shelter, 
and  leaves  and  grass,  strewed  on  the  ground, 
formed  a  bed,  though  not  so  smooth,  perhaps,  as 
the  bark  and  cedar-boughs  that  the  Indians 
spread  within  their  summer  wigwams  for  car- 
pets and  couches,  or  the  fresh  heather  that  the 
Highlanders  gather  on  the  wild  Scottish  hills. 

While  Hector  and  L(juis  were  preparing  the 
sleeping-chamber,  Catharine  busied  herself  in 


THE   CANADIAN   CRLSOES. 


67 


- 


preparing  the  partridge  for  their  supper.  Hav- 
ing collected  some  thin  peelings  from  the  rugged 
bark  of  a  V)ircli-tree,  that  grew  on  the  side  of 
the  steep  bank  to  which  she  gave  the  appro- 
priate name  of  the  "  Birken  shaw,"  she  dried  it 
in  her  bosom,  and  then  beat  it  line  on  a  big 
stone,  till  it  resembled  the  linest  white  paper. 
This  m'oved  excellent  tinder,  the  aromatic  oil 
contained  in  the  bark  of  the  birch  being  highly 
inflammnV)le.  Hector  had  prudently  retained 
the  flint  that  they  had  used  in  the  morning, 
and  a  fire  was  now  lighted  in  front  of  the  rocky 
stone,  and  a  forked  stick,  stuck  in  the  ground, 
and  bent  over  the  coals,  served  as  a  spit,  on 
which,  gipsy -fash  ion,  the  partridge  was  sus- 
pended,— a  scanty  meal,  but  thankfully  par- 
taken of,  though  they  knew  not  how  they 
should  breakfast  next  morning.  The  children 
felt  they  were  pensioners  on  God's  providence 
not  less  than  the  wild  denizens  of  the  wilderness 
around  them. 

When  Hector — who  by  nature  was  less  san- 
guine than  his  sister  or  cousin — expressed  some 
anxiety  for  their  provisions  for  the  morrow, 
Catharine,  who  had  early  listened  with  trusting 
piety  of  heart  to  the  teaching  of  her  father, 
when  he  read  portions  from  the  holy  word  of 
Ciod,  gently  laid  her  hand  upon  her  brother's 
^ead,  which  rested  on  her  knees,  as  he  sat  upon 


'f 


i 


58 


THE   CAXADIAX    CKTSOES. 


m: 


I  til 


ill  I 


''It' 

lll,l 


tbe  grass  beside  lier,  and  said,  in  a  low  and 
earnest  tone,  '''Consider  the  fowls  of  the  air; 
they  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather 
into  barns,  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth 
them.  Are  ye  not  mueh  better  than  they  ?' 
Surely,  my  brother,  God  careth  for  us  as  much 
as  for  the  wild  creatures,  that  have  no  sense  to 
praise  and  glorify  His  holy  name.  God  cares 
for  the  creatures  lie  has  made,  and  supplies 
them  with  knowledge  where  they  shall  find 
food  when  they  hunger  and  thirst.  So  I  have 
heard  my  father  say  ;  and  surely  our  father 
knows,  for  is  he  not  a  wise  man.  Hector?" 

"  I  remember,"  said  Louis,  thoughtfully, 
"  hearing  my  mother  repeat  the  words  of  a 
good  old  man  she  knew  when  she  lived  in 
Quebec; — 'When  you  are  in  trouble,  Mathilde,' 
he  used  to  say  to  her,  'kneel  down,  and  ask 
God's  help,  nothing  doubting  but  that  He  has 
the  power  as  well  as  the  will  to  serve  you,  if  it 
be  for  your  good ;  for  He  is  able  to  bring  all 
things  to  pass.  It  is  our  want  of  faith  that  pre- 
vents our  prayers  from  being  heard.'  And, 
truly,  I  think  the  wise  old  man  was  right,"  he 
added. 

It  was  strange  to  hear  gnive  words  like  these 
from  the  lips  of  the  giddy  Louis.  Possibly  thej 
had  the  greater  weight  on  tiiat  account.  And 
He3tor,  looking  u})   with  a  serious  air,  replied, 


THE   CANADIAN   CRU80ES. 


59 


-  low  and 
f  the  air ; 
I  or  gather 
jr  feedeth 
in  they  ?' 
3  as  much 

0  sense  to 
jrod  cares 

1  supplies 
shall  find 
3o  I  have 
ur  father 
or?" 

Jghtfullj, 
rds  of  a 

lived  in 
lathilde,' 

and  ask 

He  has 
>^oa,  if  it 
3ring  all 

hat  pre- 
And, 

ffht,"  he 

ve  these 
dly  the  J 
And 
replied, 


*  ^''our  mother's  friend  was  a  goud  man,  Louis. 
Our  want  of  trust  in  God's  power  must  displease 
llim.  And  when  we  think  of  all  the  great  and 
glorious  things  He  has  made, — that  blue  sky, 
those  sparkling  stars,  the  beautiful  moon  that  is 
now  shinmg  down  upon  us,  and  the  hills  and 
waters,  the  mighty  i'orest,  and  little  creeping 
plants  and  flowers  that  grow  at  our  feet, — it 
must,  indeed,  seem  fuolisli  in  His  eyes  that  we 
sliould  doubt  llis  power  to  help  us,  who  not 
only  made  all  these  thinf][s,  but  ourselves  also." 

"True,"  said  Catharine;  "but  then,  Hector, 
we  are  not  as  God  made  us ;  for  the  wicked  one 
cast  bad  seed  in  the  field  where  God  had  sown 
the  good." 

"  Let  us,  however,  consider  what  we  shall  do 
for  food :  for,  you  know,  God  helps  those  that 
help  thems^elves,"  said  Louis.  "  Let  us  consider 
a  little.  There  must  be  plenty  of  fish  in  the 
lake,  both  small  and  great." 

"But  how  are  we  to  get  them  out  of  it?" 
rejoined  Catharine.  "I  doubt  the  fish  will  swim 
ut  tlieir  ease  there,  while  we  go  hungry." 

"  ])o  not  interrupt  me,  ma  ch^re.  Then,  we 
see  the  traek  of  deer,  and  the  holes  of  the  wood- 
chuck  ;  we  hear  the  cry  of  squirrels  and  chit- 
munks,  and  tnere  are  plenty  of  partridges,  and 
ducks,  and  quails,  and  snipes;  of  course,  we 
liave  to  contrive  some  way  to  kill  them.    Fruits 


I ;. 


.10 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


my 


there  are  iii  abundance,  and  plenty  of  nnts  of 
different  kinds.  At  present  we  have  plenty  ot 
fine  strawberries,  and  huckleberries  will  be  ripe 
soon  in  profusion,  and  bilberries  too,  and  you 
know  how  plojisant  they  are ;  as  for  raspberries, 
1  see  none;  but  by  and  by  there  will  be  May- 
ap})les — I  see  great  quantities  of  them  in  the 
low  grounds ;  grapes,  high-bush  cranberries, 
haws  as  lai'ge  as  cherries,  and  sweet  too;  squaw- 
berries,  wild  plums,  choke-cherries,  and  bird- 
cherries.  As  for  sweet  acorUvS,  there  will  be 
bushels  and  bushels  of  them  for  the  roasting,  as 
good  as  chestnuts,  to  my  taste;  and  butter-nuts, 
and  hickory-nuts, — with  many  other  good 
things."  And  here  Louis  stopped  for  want  of 
breath  to  continue  his  catalogue  of  forest  dain- 
ties. 

"Yes;  and  there  are  bears,  and  wolves,  and 
racoons,  too,  that  will  eat  us  for  want  of  better 
food,"  interrupted  Hector,  slyly.  *'  Nay,  Katty, 
do  not  shudder,  as  if  you  were  already  in  the 
clutches  of  a  big  bear.  Neither  bear  nor  wolf 
shall  make  mincei  .eat  of  thee,  my  girl,  while 
Louis  and  thy  brother  are  near,  to  wield  an  axe 
or  a  knife  in  thy  defence." 

*'  Nor  catamount  spring  upon  thee,  ma  belle 
cousine,"  added  Louis,  gallantly,  "  while  thy  bold 
cousin  Louis  can  scare  him  away." 

"  Well,  now  that  we  know  our  resources,  the 


•lllJi   CANADIAN    CULSOES. 


61 


itter-nuts. 


next  thing  is  to  consider  how  we  are  to  obtiiin 
them,  my  dears,''  said  Catharine.  "  For  fishing, 
you  know,  we  must  have  a  hook  and  line,  a 
rod,  or  a  n^t.  Now,  where  are  these  to  be  met 
with  ?" 

Louis  nodded  his  liead  sagaciously.  "  The 
line  I  tliink  I  can  provide  ;  tlie  hook  is  more 
difficult,  but  I  do  not  despair  even  of  that.  As 
to  the  rod,  it  can  be  cut  from  any  slender  sap- 
ling near  the  shore.  A  net,  ma  chore,  I  could 
make  with  very  little  trouble,  if  I  had  but  a 
piece  of  cloth  to  sew  over  a  hoop." 

Catharine  laughed.  "You  are  very  inge- 
nious, no  doubt,  Monsieur  Louis,  but  where  are 
you  to  get  the  cloth  and  the  hoop,  and  the  means 
of  sewing  it  on  ?" 

Louis  took  up  the  corner  of  his  cousin's  apron 
with  a  provoking  look. 

"  My  apron,  sir,  is  not  to  be  appropriated  for 
any  such  purpose.  You  seem  to  covet  it  for 
every  thing." 

"  Indeed,  ma  petite,  I  think  it  very  unbecom- 
ing and  very  ugly,  and  never  could  see  any  good 
reason  why  you  and  mamma  and  Mathilde 
should  wear  such  frightful  things." 

*'  It  is  to  keep  our  gowns  clean,  Louis,  when 
we  are  milking  and  scrubbing,  and  doing  all 
ijorts  of  household  duties,"  said  Catharine. 

"  Well,  ma  belle,  you  have  neither  cows  to 


1 


■ 


62 


TlIK   CANADIAN    CliL'SOES. 


ill!- 


ilh.. 


illii: 


1  'iiii 


I'l: 


milk,  nor  hourio  to  clean,  '  r('[)lied  the  annoying 
ooy ;  "so  there  can  be  little  want  of  the  apron, 
1  could  tuiii  it  to  lift}  userul  i)iirpose.s." 

*'  Pooh,  nonsense,"  said  Hector,  impatiently, 
"  let  the  child  alone,  and  do  not  tease  her  about 
her  apron." 

"  Well,  then,  there  is  another  good  thing  1 
did  not  think  of  before,  water  mussels.  I  havo 
heard  my  father  and  old  Jacob  the  lumberer 
Bay,  that,  roasted  in  their  shells  in  the  ashes, 
with  a  seasoning  of  salt  and  pepper,  they  are 
good  eating  when  nothing  better  is  to  be  got." 

"  No  doubt,  if  the  seasoning  can  be  procured,'^ 
said  Hector,  "  but,  alas  for  the  salt  and  the  pep- 
per I" 

"  Well,  we  can  cat  them  with  the  best  of  all 
sauces — hunger ;  and  then,  no  doubt,  there  are 
crayfish  in  the  gravel  under  the  stones,  but  we 
must  not  mind  a  pinch  to  our  fingers  in  taking 
them." 

"  To-morrow,  then,  let  us  breakfast  on  fish," 
said  Hector.  "  You  and  I  will  try  our  luck, 
while  Kate  gathers  strawberries;  and  if  our  line 
should  break,  we  can  easily  cut  those  long  locks 
from  Catharine's  head,  and  twist  them  into 
lines," — and  Hector  laid  his  hands  upon  the  long 
fair  hair  that  hung  in  shining  curls  about  his 
sister's  neck. 

"  Cut  my  curls  I     This  is  even  worse  than 


TIIK   CAXADIAX    C11L'S0E3. 


63 


iiiiiioyLiig 
ho  apron, 

jatitMitly, 
ler  about 


I  thing  1 

I  havo 

lumberer 

lie  ashes, 

they  are 
je  got." 
rocured,'^ 

the  pep- 

ist  of  all 
here  are 
,  but  we 
U  taking 

m  fish," 
ir  luck, 
I  our  line 
ig  locks 
jm  into 
the  long 
out  his 


cousin  Tiouis's  proposal  of  niakini^  tinder  ami 
fishing-nets  of  iny  apron,"  said  Catharine  sha- 
king back  the  bright  tresses, which,  escaping  from 
the  snood  that  bound  them,  fell  in  golden  waves 
over  her  shoulders. 

"  In  truth,  llec,  it  were  a  sin  and  a  shame  to 
cut  her  pretty  curls,  that  become  her  so  well," 
said  Louis.  "  But  we  have  no  scissors,  ma 
belle,  so  you  need  fear  no  injury  to  your  precious 
locks." 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  Louis,  we  could  cut 
them  with  your  couteau-de-cliasae.  I  could  tell 
you  a  story  that  my  father  told  me,  not  hmg 
since,  of  Charles  Stuart,  the  second  king  of  that 
name  in    Endand.      You   know    he    was   tlie 

CD 

grand-uncle  of  the  young  Chevalier  Charles 
Edward,  that-  my  father  talks  of  and  loves  so 
much." 

"I  know  all  about  him,"  said  Catharine, 
nodding  sagaciously  ;  "  let  us  h(^ar  the  story  of  his 
grand-uncle.  But  I  should  like  to  know  what 
my  hair  and  Louis's  knife  can  have  to  do  with 
King  Charles." 

"  Wait  a  bit,  Kate,  and  you  shall  hear,  that 
is,  if  you  have  patience,"  said  her  brother. 
"Well  then,  you  must  know,  that  after  some 
great  battle,  the  name  of  which  I  forg«^%*  in 


5 


Ik 

']    I 


^e  than 


*  Battle  of  Worcester. 


34 


THK    CANADIAN    CliUbOES. 


)i'.l 


which  the  king  and  his  liandl'ul  of  brave  soldiers 
were  defeated  by  the  forces  of  the  Parliament, 
(the  Koundheads  as  they  were  called,)  the  poor 
young  king  w/is  hunted  like  a  partridge  upon 
the  mountains ;  a  large  price  was  set  on  his 
head,  to  be  given  to  any  traitor  who  should  slay 
him,  or  bring  him  prisoner  to  Oliver  Cromwell. 
He  was  obliged  to  dress  himself  in  all  sorts  of 
queer  clothes,  and  hide  in  all  manner  of  strange 
out-of-the-way  places,  and  keep  company  with 
rude  and  humble  men,  the  better  to  hide  his 
real  rank  from  the  cruel  enemies  that  sought  his 
life.  Once  he  hid  along  with  a  gallant  gentle- 
man,* one  of  his  own  brave  officers,  in  the 
branches  of  a  great  oak.  Once  he  was  hid  in  a 
mill ;  and  another  time  he  was  in  the  house  of 
one  Pendril,  a  woodman.  The  soldiers  of  the 
Parliament,  who  were  always  prowling  about, 
and  popping  in  unawares  wherever  they  sus- 
pected the  poor  king  to  be  hidden,  were,  at  one 
time,  in  the  very  room  where  he  was  standing 
beside  the  fire." 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  Catharine,  "  that  was  fright- 
ful.    And  did  they  take  him  prisoner  ?" 

"  No ;  for  the  wise  woodman  and  his  brothers, 
fearing  lest  the  soldiers  should  discover  that  he 
was  a  cavalier  and  a  gentleman,  by  the  long 


t  Colonel  Careless. 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


65 


curls  that  the  king's  men  all  wore  in  tLose 
days,  and  called  lovelocks^  begged  of  his  majesty 
to  let  his  hair  be  cropped  close  to  his  head." 

"  That  was  very  hard,  to  lose  his  nice  curls." 

"  I  dare  say  the  young  king  thought  so  too, 
but  it  was  better  to  lose  his  hair  than  his  head. 
So,  I  suppose,  the  men  told  him,  for  he  suffered 
tliem  to  cut  it  all  close  to  his  head,  laying  down 
his  head  on  a  rough  deal  table,  or  a  chopping- 
block,  while  his  faithful  friends  with  a  large 
knife  trimmed  off  the  curls." 

"  I  wonder  if  the  young  king  thought  at  that 
minute  of  his  poor  father,  who,  you  know,  was 
forced  by  wicked  men  to  lay  down  his  head 
upon  a  block  to  have  it  cut  from  his  shoulders, 
because  Cromwell,  and  others  as  hard-hearted 
as  himself,  willed,  that  he  should  die." 

"Poor  king!"  said  Catharine,  sighing,  "1  see 
that  it  is  better  to  be  poor  children,  wandering 
on  these  plains  under  God's  own  care,  than  to 
be  kings  and  princes  at  the  mercy  of  bad  and 
sinful  men." 

"  Who  told  your  father  all  these  things,  Hec?" 
said  Louis. 

"It  was  the  son  of  his  brave  colonel,  who 
knew  a  great  deal  about  the  history  of  the 
Stuart  kings,  for  our  colonel  had  been  with 
Prince  Charles,  the  young  chevalier,  and  fought 
by  his  side  when  he  was  in  Scotland;  he  loved 


2 

53 

t5 


66 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


him  dearly,  and,  after  the  battle  of  Culloden, 
wbere  the  prince  lost  all,  and  was  driven  from 
place  to  place,  and  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head,  he  went  abroad  in  hopes  of  better  times ; 
(but  those  times  did  not  come  for  the  poor 
prince;)  and  our  colonel,  after  awhile,  through 
the  friendship  of  General  Wolfe,  got  a  commis- 
sion in  the  army  that  was  embarking  for  Quebec, 
and,  at  last,  commanded  the  regiment  to  which 
my  father  belonged.  He  was  a  kind  man,  and 
my  father  loved  both  him  and  his  son,  and 
grieved  not  a  little  when  he  parted  from  him." 

"  Well,"  said  Catharine,  "  as  you  have  told 
me  such  a  nice  story.  Mister  Hec,  I  shall  forgive 
the  affront  about  my  curls." 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow  we  are  to  try  our 
luck  at  fishing,  and  if  we  fail,  we  will  make  us 
bows  and  arrows  to  kill  deer  or  small  game ;  I 
fancy  we  shall  not  be  over  particular  as  to  its 
quality.  Why  should  not  we  be  able  to  find 
subsistence  as  well  as  the  wild  Indians?" 

"  True,"  said  Hector,  "  the  wild  men  of  the 
wilderness,  and  the  animals  and  birds,  all  are 
fed  by  the  things  that  He  provideth  ;  then, 
wherefore  should  His  white  children  fear  ?" 

"  I  have  often  heard  my  father  tell  of  the 
privations  of  the  lumberers,  when  they  have 
fallen  short  of  provisions,  and  of  the  contri- 
vances of  himself  and  old  Jacob  Morel le,  when 


I  ! 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


illoden, 
m  from 
lay  bia 
times ; 
le  poor 
^brongb 
jommis- 
Quebec, 

0  wliich. 
lan,  and 
on,  and 

1  bim." 
ive  told 
1  forgive 

try  our 
take  us 
;ame;  I 
IS  to  its 
to  find 

of  tbe 
all  are 
,;    tben, 
?" 

of  tbe 

bavo 

contri- 

L  wben 


tbey  were  lost  for  several  days,  nay,  weeks  I 
believe  it  was.  LiLo  tbe  Indians,  tbey  made 
tbemselves  bows  aud  arrows,  using  tbe  sinews 
of  tbe  deer,  or  fresb  tbongs  of  leatber,  for  bow- 
strings ;  and  wben  tbey  could  not  get  game  to 
eat,  tbey  boiled  tbe  inner  bark  of  tbe  slippery 
elm  to  jelly,  or  bircb  bark,  and  drank  tbe  sap 
of  tbe  sugar  maple  wben  tbey  could  get  no 
water  but  melted  snow  only,  wbicb  is  unwbol^- 
some ;  at  last,  tbey  even  boiled  tbeir  own  mo- 
cassins.'' 

"  Indeed,  Louis,  tbat  must  bave  been  a  very 
unsavoury  disb,"  said  Catbarine. 

"  Tbat  old  buckskin  vest  would  bave  made 
a  famous  pot  of  soup  of  itself,"  added  Hector, 
"  or  tbe  deer-skin  bunting  sbirt." 

"  Well,  tbey  migbt  bave  been  reduced  even 
to  tbat,"  said  Louis,  laugbing,  "  but  for  tbe  good 
fortune  tbat  befell  tbem  in  tbe  way  of  a  balf- 
roasted  bear." 

"  Nonsense,  cousin  Louis,  bears  do  not  run 
about  ready  roasted  in  tbe  forest,  like  tbe  lamba 
in  tbe  old  nurserv  tale." 

"  Well  now,  Kate,  tins  was  a  fact ;  at  least, 
it  was  told  as  one  by  old  Jacob,  and  my  fatber 
did  not  deny  it  ;  sball  I  tell  you  about  it  ? 
Atter  passing  several  bungry  days  witb  no 
better  food  to  keep  tbem  alive  tban  tbe  scra- 
pings of  tbe  inner  bark  of  tbe  poplars  and  elms, 


15 


\\i  V 


n 


I 


\r, 


\A 


68 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


f'li 


which  was  not  very  substantial  for  hearty  men^ 
they  encamped  one  night  in  a  thick,  dark  swamp, 
— not  the  sort  of  place  they  would  have  chosen, 
but  that  they  could  not  help  themselves,  having 
been  enticed  into  it  by  the  tracks  of  a  deer  or  a 
moose, — and  night  came  upon  them  unawares, 
30  they  set  to  work  to  kindle  up  a  fire  with 
spunk,  and  a  flint  and  knife ;  rifle  they  had 
none,  or  maybe  they  would  have  had  game  to  eat. 
Old  Jacob  fixed  upon  a  huge  hollow  pine,  that 
lay  across  their  path,  against  which  he  soon 
piled  a  glorious  heap  of  boughs  and  arms  of 
trees,  and  whatever  wood  he  could  collect,  and 
lighted  up  a  fine  fire.  You  know  what  a  noble 
hand  old  Jacob  used  to  be  at  making  up  a  roar- 
ing fire  ;  he  thought,  I  suppose,  if  he  could  not 
have  warmth  within,  he  would  have  plenty  of 
it  without.  The  wood  was  dry  pine  and  cedar 
and  birch,  and  it  blazed  away,  and  crackled  and 
burnt  like  a  pine-torch.  By  and  by  they  heard 
a  most  awful  growling  close  to  them.  '  That's 
a  big  bear,  as  I  live,'  said  old  Jacob,  looking  all 
about,  thinking  to  see  one  come  out  from  the 
thick  bush  ;  but  Bruin  was  nearer  to  him  than 
he  thought,  for  presently  a  great  black  becii 
burst  out  from  the  butt-end  of  the  great  burn- 
ing log,  and  made  towards  Jacob ;  just  then  the 
wnid  blew  the  flame  outward,  and  it  caught  the 
bear's  thick  coat,  and  he  was  all  in  a  blaze  in 


iiji 


THE   CANADIAN    C HUSOES. 


69 


a  moment.  No  doubt  the  heat  of  the  fire  had 
penetrated  to  the  hollow  of  the  log,  where  he 
had  lain  himself  snugly  up  for  the  winter,  and 
wakened  him  ;  but  Jacob  seeino:  the  hu;]re  black 
brute  all  in  a  flame  of  fire,  bcc^an  to  think  it  was 
Satan's  own  self  come  to  carry  him  off,  and  he 
roared  with  fright,  and  the  bear  roared  with 
pam  and  rage,  and  my  father  roared  with  laugh- 
ing to  see  Jacob's  terror ;  but  he  did  not  let  the 
bear  laugh  at  him,  for  he  seized  a  thick  pole 
that  he  had  used  for  closing  in  the  brands  and 
logs,  and  soon  demolished  the  bear,  who  was  so 
blinded  with  the  fire  and  smoke  that  he  made 
no  fight ;  and  they  feasted  on  roast  bear's  flesh 
for  many  days,  i\nd  got  a  capital  skin  to  cover 
them  beside." 

"  What,  Louis !  after  the  fur  was  all  singed  ?" 
said  Catharine. 

"  Kate,  you  are  too  particular,"  said  Louis ; 
"  a  story  never  loses,  you  know." 

Hector  laughed  heartily  at  the  adventure, 
and  enjoyed  the  dilemma  of  the  bear  in  his 
winter  qu-^^-ters ;  but  Catharine  was  somewhat 
sliocked  at  the  levity  displayed  by  her  cousin 
and  brother,  when  recounting  the  terror  of  old 
Jacob  and  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  bear." 

*'  You  boys  are  always  so  unfeeling,"  she 
said,  gravely. 

"  Indeed,  Kate,"  said  her  brother,  "  the  day 


70 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


may  come  when  tlie  sight  of  a,  good  piece  of 
roast  bear's  flesh  will  be  no  unwelcome  sight. 
If  we  do  not  find  onr  way  back  to  Cold  Springa 
before  the  winter  sets  in,  we  may  be  reduced  to 
as  bad  a  state  as  poor  Jacob  and  my  uncle  were 
in  the  pine  swamps,  on  the  banks  of  the  St. 
John." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Catharine,  tr  imblinir,  "  that 
would  be  too  bad  to  happen." 

"  Courage,  ma  belle,  let  us  not  despair  for 
the  morrow.  Let  us  see  what  to-morrow  will 
do  for  us ;  meantime,  we  will  not  neglect  the 
blessings  we  still  possess ;  see,  our  partridge  is 
ready,  let  us  eat  our  supper,  and  be  thankful ; 
and  for  grace  let  us  say,  '  Sufficient  unto  the 
day  is  the  evil  thereof.' " 

Long  exposure  to  the  air  had  sharpened  their 
appetites  —  the  hungry  wanderers  needed  no 
further  invitation,  the  scanty  meal,  equally 
divided,  was  soon  desj.  atched. 

It  is  a  common  saying,  b  it  excellent  to  be 
remembered  by  any  wanderers  in  our  forest 
wilds,  that  those  who  travel  by  the  sun  travel 
in  a  circle,  and  usuallv  find  themselves  at  niprht 
in  the  same  place  from  whence  they  started  in 
the  mornino^ ;  so  it  was  with  our  wanderers. 
At  sunset,  they  found  themselves  once  more  in 
the  ravine,  beside  the  big  stone,  in  which  they 
had  rested  at  noon.     They  had  imagined  them 


THE    CANADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


71 


selves  miles  and  miles  distant  from  it;  they 
were  grievously  disappointed.  They  had  en- 
couraged each  other  with  the  confident  hope 
that  they  were  drawing  near  to  the  end  of  their 
bewildering  journey  ;  they  were  as  far  from 
their  home  as  ever,  without  the  slightest  clue 
to  guide  them  to  the  right  path.  Despair  is  not 
a  feeling  which  takes  deep  root  in  the  youthful 
breast.  The  young  are  always  so  hopeful ;  so 
confident  in  their  own  wisdom  and  skill  in 
averting  or  conquering  danger;  so  trusting;  so 
willing  to  believe  that  there  is  a  peculiar  Provi- 
dence watching  over  them.  Poor  children ! 
they  had  indeed  need  of  such  a  belief  to 
strengthen  their  minds  and  encourage  them 
to  fresh  exertions,  for  new  trials  were  at  hand. 

The  broad  moonlight  had  already  flooded  the 
recesses  of  the  glen  with  light,  and  all  looked 
fresh  and  lovely  in  the  dew,  which  glittered  on 
tree  and  leaf,  on  herb  and  flower.  Catharine, 
who,  though  weary  with  her  fatiguing  wander- 
ings, could  not  sleep,  left  the  little  hut  of 
boughs  which  her  companions  had  put  up  near 
the  granite  rock  in  the  valley  for  her  accommo- 
dation, and  ascended  the  western  bank,  where 
the  last  jutting  spur  of  its  steep  side  formed  a 
lofty  cliff-like  promontory,  at  the  extreme 
verge  of  which  the  roots  of  one  tall  spreading 
oak  formed  a  most  inviting  seat,  from  whence 


iP 


'11 


!    1- 

ft, 


11 
I      f 


72 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


111!!!! 


i!.:::|i 


the  traveller  looked  down  into  a  level  track, 
which  stretched  away  to  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
This  flat  had  been  the  estuary  of  the  mountain 
stream,  which  had  once  rushed  down  between 
the  hills,  forming  a  narrow  gorge ;  but  now,  all 
was  changed  ;  the  waters  had  ceased  to  flow,  the 
granite  bed  was  overgrown,  and  carpeted  with 
deer-grass  and  flowers  of  many  hues,  wild  fruits 
and  bushes,  below ;  while  majestic  oaks  and 
pines  towered  above.  A  sea  of  glittering  foliage 
lay  beneath  Catharine's  feet ;  in  the  distance 
the  eye  of  the  young  girl  rested  on  a  belt  of 
shining  waters,  which  girt  in  the  shores  like  a 
silver  zone;  beyond,  yet  more  remote  to  the 
northward,  stretched  the  illimitable  forest. 

Never  had  Catharine  looked  upon  a  scene 
so  still  or  so  fair  to  the  eye ;  a  holy  calm  seem- 
ed to  shed  its  influence  over  her  young  mind, 
and  peaceful  tears  stole  down  her  cheeks.  Not 
a  sound  was  there  abroad,  scarcely  a  leaf 
stirred ;  she  could  have  staved  for  hours  there 
gazing  on  the  calm  beauty  of  nature,  and  com- 
muning with  her  own  heart,  when  suddenly 
a  stirring,  rustling  sound  caught  her  ear ;  it 
came  from  a  hollow  channel  on  one  side  of  the 
promontory,  which  was  thickly  overgrown  with 
the  shrubby  dog-wood,  wild  roses,  and  bilberry 
bushes.  Imagine  the  terror  which  seized  the 
poor  girl,  on  perceiving  a  grisly  beast  break- 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


73 


ing  through  the  covert  of  the  bushes.  With  a 
scream  and  a  bound,  which  the  most  deadly 
fear  alone  could  have  inspired,  Catharine  sprung 
from  the  supporting  trunk  of  the  oak,  dashed 
down  the  precipitous  side  of  the  ravine;  now 
clinging  to  the  bending  sprays  of  the  flexile 
dog-wood — now  to  some  fragile  birch  or  poplar 
— now  trusting  to  the  yielding  heads  of  the 
sweet-scented  ceanothus,  or  filling  her  hands 
with  sharp  thorns  from  the  roses  that  clothed 
the  bank  ;  flowers,  grass,  all  were  alike  clutched 
at  in  her  rapid  and  fearful  descent. 

A  loose  fragment  of  granite  on  which  she 
had  unwittingly  placed  her  foot  rolled  from 
under  her;  unable  to  regain  her  balance  she 
fell  forwards,  and  was  precipitated  through  the 
bushes  into  the  ravine  below  ;  conscious  only  of 
unspeakable  terror  and  an  agonizing  pain  in 
one  of  her  ankles,  which  rendered  her  quite 
powerless.  The  noise  of  the  stones  she  had 
dislodged  in  her  fall  and  her  piteous  cries 
brought  Louis  and  Hector  to  her  side,  and  they 
bore  her  in  their  arms  to  the  hut  of  boughs  and 
laid  her  down  upon  her  bed  of  leaves  and  grass 
and  young  pine  boughs.  When  Catharine  was 
able  to  speak,  she  related  to  Louis  and.  Hector 
the  cause  of  her  fright.  She  was  sure  it  must 
have  been  a  wolf  by  his  sharp  teeth,  long  jaws, 
and  grisly  coat.     The  last  glance  she  had  had 


G 


:-  I 


7^ 


THE   CAXAIJIAX   CRUSOES. 


|i!il|^ 


of  him  had  lilled  licr  vvitli  terror,  he  was  stand- 
ing on  a  fallen  tree  with  liis  eyes  fixed  upon 
her — she  could  tell  them  no  more  that  happen- 
ed, she  never  felt  the  ground  she  was  on,  so 
great  was  her  fright. 

Hector  was  half  dis[)osed  to  scold  his  sister 
for  rambling  over  the  hills  alone,  but  Louis  was 
full  of  tender  com})assion  for  la  belle  cousins, 
and  would  not  suifer  her  to  be  chidden.  Fortu- 
nately, no  bones  had  been  fractured,  though  the 
sinews  of  her  ankle  were  severely  sprained ;  but 
the  pain  was  intense,  and  after  a  sleepless  night, 
the  boys  found  to  their  grief  and  dismay,  that 
Catharine  was  unable  to  put  her  foot  to  the 
ground.  This  was  an  unlooked-for  aggravation 
of  their  misfortunes  ;  to  pursue  their  wandering 
was  for  the  present  impossible ;  rest  was  their 
only  remedy,  excepting  the  application  of  such 
cooling  medicaments  as  circumstances  would 
supply  them  with.  Cold  water  constantly  ap- 
plied to  the  swollen  joint  was  the  first  thing 
that  was  suggested ;  but,  simple  as  was  the  lo- 
tion, it  was  not  easy  to  obtain  it  in  sufficient 
quantities.  They  were  full  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  lake  shore,  and  the  cold  springs  near 
it  were  yet  further  off;  and  then  the  only  ves- 
sel they  had  was  the  tin-pot,  which  hardly  con- 
tained a  pint ;  at  the  same  time  the  thirst  of  the 
fevered  sufferer  was  int(.)lerable,  and  had  also  to 


TUb:    CANADIAN   CliUSOES. 


75 


s  on,  so 


cousine. 


be  provided  for.     Poor  Catliarine,  wluit  uuex 
peered  misery  she  now  endured  I 

The  vidley  and  its  neiLL'hboiirin;^  hills  abound- 
ed  in  strawberries;  they  were  now  ripening  in 
abundanec ;  the  ground  was  searlet  in  places 
with  this  delieious  fruit;  they  proved  a  blessed 
relief  to  the  poor  sufferer's  burning  thirst.  Hec- 
tor and  Louis  were  unwearied  in  supplying  her 
with  them. 

Louis,  ever  fertile  in  expedients,  crushed  the 
cooling  fruit  and  applied  them  to  the  sprained 
foot;  rendering  vhe  application  still  more  grate- 
ful by  spreading  them  upon  the  large,  smooth 
leaves  of  the  sapling  oak;  these  he  bound  on 
with  strips  of  the  leathery  bark  of  the  moose- 
wood,*  which  he  had  found  growing  in  great 
abundance  near  the  entrance  of  the  ravine. 
Hector,  in  the  mean  time,  was  not  idle.  After 
having  collected  a  good  supply  of  ripe  straw- 
berries, he  climbed  the  hills  in  search  of  bird's 
eggs  and  small  game.  About  noon  he  returned 
with  the  good  news  of  having  discovered  a 
Fpring  of  fine  water  in  an  adjoining  ravine,  be- 
neath a  clump  of  bass-wood  and  black  cherry- 
trees  ;  he  had  also  been  so  fortunate  as  to  kill  a 
woodehuck,    having  met  with  many   of  their 


i 

n 


*  "  Dl/'ca  ■paliistris,'''' — Moose-wood.  American  mezereon, 
leal  lier-wood.  From  the  Greek,  dirka,  a  fountain  or  wot  placei 
it^  usual  place  of  growth. 


76 


THK   CANADIAN   CKL'SOES. 


burrows  in  the  gravelly  sidos  of  tli(3  hilln.  Tno 
woodchuck  seems  to  be  a  link  between  the  rab- 
bit and  badger ;  its  colour  is  that  of  a  leveret ; 
it  climbs  like  the  racoon  and  burrows  like  the 
rabbit;  its  eyes  are  large,  full  and  dark,  the  lip 
cleft,  the  soles  of  the  feet  naked,  claws  sharp, 
ears  short ;  it  feeds  on  grasses,  grain,  fruit,  and 
berries.  The  flesh  is  white,  oily,  and,  in  the 
summer,  rank,  but  is  eaten  in  the  fall  by  the 
Indians  and  woodsmen;  the  skin  is  not  much 
valued.  They  are  easily  killed  by  dogs,  though, 
being  expert  climbers,  they  often  baflle  their 
enemies,  clinging  to  the  bark  beyond  their 
reach ;  a  stone  or  stiek  well-aimed  soon  kills 
them,  but  they  often  bite  sharply. 

The  woodchuck  proved  a  providential  supply, 
and  Hector  cheered  his  companions  with  the 
assurance  that  they  could  not  starve,  as  there 
were  plenty  of  these  creatures  to  be  found. 
They  had  seen  one  or  two  about  the  Cold 
Springs,  but  they  are  less  common  in  the  deep 
Surest  lands  tlian  on  the  drier,  more  open  plains. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  we  have  no  larger  vessel 
to  bring  our  water  from  the  spring  in,"  said 
Hector,  looking  at  the  tin-pot ;  "  one  is  so  apt  to 
stumble  among  stones  and  tangled  underwood. 
If  we  only  had  one  of  our  old  bark  dishes  we 
liould  get  a  good  supply  at  once." 

"There  is  a  fallen  birch  not  far  from  this," 


Tin-:    CANADIAN    C HUSOES. 


77 


Irt.  Tna 
the  rab- 
leveret ; 
like  tho 
:,  tho  lip 
s  sharp, 
riiit,  and 
,  in  the 
I  by  tho 
lot  much 
,  though, 
lie  their 
id  their 
)on  kills 

1  supply, 
ith  the 
s  there 
found, 
lie  Cold 
lie  deep 
plains, 
r  vessel 
"  said 
o  apt  to 
erwood. 
Isbes  we 

this/ 


laid  Louis ;  "  I  have  hero  my  trusty  knife  ;  what 
is  there  to  hinder  us  from  manuliicturing  a 
vessel  capable  of  holding  water — a  gallon  if  you 
like  ?^' 

'*IIow  can  you  sew  it  together,  cousin?" 
asked  Catharine;  "you  have  neither  deer 
sinews,  nor  war-ta[)."  [The  Indian  name  for 
tho  flexble  roots  of  the  tamarack,  or  swamp 
larch,  which  they  make  use  of  in  manufacturing 
the  birch  baskets  and  canoes.] 

"  I  have  a  substitute  at  hand,  ma  belle,"  and 
Louis  pointed  to  the  strips  of  leather-wood  that 
he  had  collected  for  binding  the  dressings  on 
his  cousin's  foot. 

When  an  idea  once  struck  Louis,  he  never 
rested  till  he  worked  it  out  in  some  way.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  wasbusily  employed,  stripping 
sheets  of  the  ever-useful  birch-bark  from  the 
trunk  that  had  fallen  at  the  foot  of  the  "  Wolf's 
Crag" — for  so  the  children  had  nam.cd  the 
memorable  spot  where  poor  Catharine's  accident 
had  occurred. 

The  rough  outside  coatings  of  the  bark, 
which  are  of  silvery  whiteness,  but  are  ragged 
from  exposure  to  the  action  of  the  weather  in 
the  larger  and  older  trees,  he  peeled  off,  and 
then  cutting  the  bark  so  that  the  sides  lapped 
well  over,  and  the  corners  were  secured  from 
cracks,  he  proceeded  to  pierce  holes  opposite  to 


2 

^ 


7h 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


each  t»  \er,  and  with  some  trouble  managed  to 
stitch  them  tightly  together,  by  drawing  strips 
of  the  moose  or  leather- wood  through  and 
through.  The  first  attempt,  of  course,  was  but 
rude  and  ill-shaped,  but  it  answered  the  purpose, 
and  only  leaked  a  little  at  the  corners  for  want 
of  a  sort  of  flap,  wliich  he  had  forgotten  to  al- 
low in  cutting  out  the  bark.  This  flap  in  the 
Indian  baskets  hud  dishes  turns  up,  and  keeps 
all  tight  and  close.  The  defect  he  remedied  in 
his  subsequent  attempts.  In  spite  of  its  de- 
ficiencies, Louis's  water-jar  was  looked  upon 
with  great  admiration,  and  highly  commended 
by  Catharine,  who  almost  forgot  her  sufferings 
while  watching  her  cousin's  proceedings. 

Louis  was  elated  by  his  own  successful 
ingenuity,  and  was  for  running  off  directly  to 
the  spring.  "  Catharine  shall  now  have  cold 
water  to  bathe  her  poor  ankle  with,  and  to 
quench  her  thirst,"  he  said,  joyfully  springing 
to  his  feet,  ready  foi'  a  start  up  the  steep  bank ; 
but  Hector  quietly  restrained  his  lively  cousin, 
by  suggesting  the  possibility  of  his  not  finding 
the  "  fountain  in  the  wilderness,"  as  Louis 
termed  the  spring,  or  losing  himself  altogether. 

"  Let  us  both  go  together,  then,"  cried  Louia. 
Catharine  cast  on  her  cousin  an  imploring 
glance. 

"Do  not  leave  me,  dear  Louis;  Hector,  do 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


79 


not  let  me  be  left  alone."  Ilcr  sorrowful  appeal 
stayed  tlie  steps  of  the  volatile  Louis. 

"Go  you,  Hector,  as  you  know  the  way; 
I  vrill  not  leave  you,  Kate,  since  I  was  the 
cause  of  all  you  have  suffered;  I  will  abide 
by  you  in  joy  or  in  sorrow  till  I  see  you  once 
more  safe  in  your  own  dear  mother's  arms." 

Comforted  by  this  assurance,  Catharine 
quickly  dashed  away  the  gathering  tears  from 
her  cheeks,  and  chid  her  own  foolish  fears. 

"  But  you  know,  dear  cousin,"  she  said,  "  I 
am  so  helpless,  and  then  the  dread  of  th-^t  hor- 
rible wolf  makes  a  coward  of  me." 

After  some  little  time  had  elapsed,  Hector 
returned ;  the  bark  vessel  had  done  its  duty  to 
admiration,  it  only  wanted  a  very  little  im- 
provement to  make  it  complete.  The  water 
was  cold  and  pure.  Hector  had  spent  a  little 
time  in  deepening  the  mouth  of  the  spring,  and 
placing  some  stones  about  it.  He  described 
the  ravine  as  being  much  deeper  and  wider,  and 
more  gloomy  than  the  one  they  occupied.  The 
sides  and  bottom  were  clothed  with  magnincent 
oaks.  It  was  a  grand  sight,  he  said,  to  stand  on 
the  jutting  spurs  of  this  great  ravine,  and  look 
down  upon  the  tops  of  the  trees  that  lay  below, 
tossing  their  rounded  heads  like  thu  waves  of 
a  big  sea.  There  were  many  lovely  flowers, 
vetches  of  several  kinds,  blue,  white,  and  pea- 


2 

S3 


50 


THE    CANADIAN   CllUSOES. 


cilled. 


twining 


among 


the 


grass. 


A  beautiful 


white-belled  flower,  that  was  like  the  "Morning 
glory,"  {Convolvulus  7najor,)iind  scarlet-cups*  in 
abundance,  with  roses  in  profusion.  The 
bottom  of  this  ravine  w^as  strewed  in  places 
with  huge  blocks  of  black  granite,  cushioned 
with  thick  green  moss;  it  opened  out  into  a 
wide  flat,  similar  to  the  one  at  the  mouth  of  the 
valley  of  the  Big  Stone. f 

These  children  were  not  insensible  to  the 
beauties  of  nature,  and  both  Hector  and  his  sis- 
ter had  insensibly  imbibed  a  love  of  the  grand 
and  the  picturesque,  by  listening  w^ith  untiring 
interest  to  their  father's  animated  and  enthusias- 
tic descriptions  of  his  Highland  home,  and  the 
wild  mountainous  scenery  that  surrounded  it. 
Though  brought  up  in  solitude  and  uneducated, 
yet  there  was  nothing  vulgar  or  rude  in  the 
minds  or  manners  of  these  young  people.  Sim- 
ple and  untaught  they  were,  but  they  were 
guileless,  earnc^jt,  and  unsophisticated ;  and  if 
they  lacked  the  knowledge  that  is  learned  from 
book's,  they  possessed  much  that  was  useful  and 
practical,  which  had  been  taught  by  experience 
and  observation  in  the  school  of  necessity. 

*  Frich/wna,  or  painted-cup. 

t  The  mouth  of  this  ravine  is  now  under  the  plough,  and 
waving  flclds  of  golden  grain  and  verdant  pastures  have  taken 
place  of  the  wild  shrubs  aud  flowers  that  formerly  adorned  if 
The  lot  belongs  to  G.  Ley,  Esq. 


THE    CANADIAN   CJiUSOES. 


8! 


For  several  days  the  paiu  and  fever  arising 
from  her  sprain  rendered  any  attempt  at  re- 
moving Catharine  from  the  valley  of  the  "  Big 
Stone"  impracticable.  The  ripe  fruit  began  to 
grow  less  abundant  in  their  immediate  vicinity, 
and  neither  woodchuck,  partridge,  nor  squirrel 
bad  been  killed;  and  our  poor  wanderers  now 
endured  the  agonizing  pains  of  hunger.  Con- 
tinual exposure  to  the  air  by  night  and  by  day 
contributed  not  a  little  to  increase  the  desire  for 
food.  It  is  true,  there  was  the  yet  untried  lake, 
"bright,  boundless,  and  free,"  gleaming  in  sil- 
very splend(jur  ;  but  in  practice  they  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  fisher's  craft,  though,  as  a  matter 
of  report,  tliey  were  well  acquainted  with  all 
the  mysteries  of  it,  and  had  often  listened  with 
delight  to  the  feats  performed  by  their  respective 
fathers  in  the  art  of  angling,  spearing,  and  net- 


ting. 


"  I  have  heard  my  father  say,  that  so  bold 
and  numerous  were  the  fish  in  the  lakes  and 
rivers  he  was  used  to  fish  in,  that  they  could 
be  taken  by  the  hand,  with  a  crooked  pin  and 
coarse  thread,  or  wooden  spear  ;  but  that  was  in 
the  lower  province  ;  and  oh,  what  glorious  tales 
I  have  heard  him  tell  of  spearing  fish  by  torch- 
light 1" 

"  The  fish  may  be  wiser  or  not  so  numeroui* 
in  this  lake,"  said  Hector ;  "  however,  if  Kate 


III 


82 


THE    CANADIAN'    CKL'SOES. 


can  bear  to  be  niDved,  we  will  go  down  to  the 
shore  and  try  our  luck;  but  what  can  we  do? 
we  have  neither  hook  nor  line  provided." 

Louis  nodded  his  head,  and  sitting  down  on 
a  projecting  root  of  a  scrub  oak,  produced  from 
the  depths  of  his  capacious  pocket  a  bit  of  tin, 
which  he  carefully  selected  from  among  a  niis- 
celhineous  hoard  of  treasures.  "  Here,"  said 
he,  hokling  it  up  to  the  view  as  he  spoke,  "  here 
is  theshde  of  an  old  powder-flask,  which  I  picked 
up  from  among  some  rubbish  that  my  sister  had 
thrown  out  the  other  day." 

"I  fear  you  will  make  nothing  of  that," 
said  Hector,  "  a  bit  of  bone  would  be  better. 
If  you  had  a  file  now,  you  might  do  some- 


5» 


thing. 

"Stay  a  moment,  Monsieur  Ilec,  what  do 
you  call  this?"  and  Louis  triumphantly  handed 
out  of  his  pocket  the  very  instrument  in  ques- 
tion, a  few  inches  of  a  broken,  rusty  file ;  very 
rusty,  indeed,  it  was,  but  still  it  might  be  made 
to  answer  in  such  ingenious  hands  as  those  of 
our  young  French  Canadian.  "  I  well  remem- 
ber, Katty,  how  you  and  Mathilde  laughed  at 
me  for  treasuring  up  this  old  thing  months  ago. 
Ah,  Louis,  Louis,  you  little  knew  the  use  it  was 
to  be  put  to  then,"  he  added  thoughtfully,  apos- 
trophizing himself;  "how  little  do  we  know 
what  is  to  befall  us  in  our  young  days  I"    . 


I 


THE   CAXADIAN    CRUSOIvS. 


83 


"God  knows  it  all,"  said  Hector,  graveW, 
**  we  arc  under  His  good  guidance." 

"  You  are  right,  lice,  let  us  trust  in  His  mer- 
cy, and  He  will  take  good  care  of  us.  Come, 
let  us  go  to  tlie  lake,"  Catharir. "  ''dded,  and 
sprung  to  lier  feet,  but  as  c|uiekl}  sank  down 
upon  the  grass,  and  regarded  her  companions 
with  a  piteous  look,  saying,  "I  cannot  walk  one 
step  ;  alas,  alas!  what  is  to  become  of  me?  lam 
oidy  a  useless  bnrden  to  you.  If  you  leave  me 
here,  I  shall  fall  a  prey  to  some  savage  beast, 
and  you  cannot  carry  mc  with  you  in  youi- 
search  for  food," 

"  Dry  your  tears,  sweet  cousin,  you  shall  go 
with  us.  Do  vou  think  that  Hector  or  Louis 
would  abandon  you  in  your  helpless  state,  to  die 
of  hunger  or  thirst,  or  to  be  torn  by  wolves  or 
bears?  We  will  carrj^  you  by  turns;  the  dis- 
tance to  the  lake  is  nothing,  and  y(3U  are  not  so 
very  heavy,  ma  belle  cousine  ;  see,  I  could  dance 
with  you  in  my  arms,  you  are  so  light  a  bur- 
don," — and  Louis  "'avly  cau'dit  the  sulfering  iz'irl 
up  in  hin  arms,  and  with  rapid  steps  sti'uck  into 
the  deer  path  that  wound  through  the  ravine 
towards  the  lake;  but  when  they  reached  a 
pretty  rounded  knoll,  (where  Wolf  To wer'^*  now 
stands,)  L(;uis  would  fain  place  his  cousin  on  a 


2 

r 


See  accouuL  of  tlie  "  Wolf  Tower,"  in  Uio  Appendix. 


94 


TlIK    CANADIAN'    CilL'SOES. 


flat  Stone  bencatli  a  big  oak  that  grew  beside  the 
bank,  and  fling  himself  on  the  flowery  ground 
at  her  feet,  while  he  drew  a  long  breath,  and 
p;athercd  the  fruit  that  grew  among  the  long 
grass  to  refresh  himself  after  his  fatigue;  and 
then,  while  resting  on  the  "Elfin  Knowe,,"  as 
Catharine  called  the  hill,  he  employed  himself 
with  manufacturing  a  rude  sort  of  fish-hook  with 
the  aid  of  his  knife,  the  bit  of  tin,  and  tlie  rusty 
file  ;  a -bit  of  twine  was  next  produced, — boys 
have  always  a  bit  of  string  in  their  pockets,  and 
Louis,  as  I  have  before  hinted,  was  a  provident 
hoarder  of  such  small  matters.  The  string  was 
soon  attached  to  the  hook,  and  Hector  was  not 
long  in  cutting  a  sapling  that  answered  well  the 
purpose  of  a  fishing-rod,  and  thus  equipped  they 
[)roceeded  to  the  lake  shore,  Hector  and  Louis 
carrying  the  crippled  Catharine  by  turns.  AVhen 
there,  they  selected  a  sheltered  spot  beneath  a 
grove  of  overhanging  cedars  and  birches,  fes- 
tooned with  wild  vines,  which,  closely  woven, 
formed  a  natural  bower,  quite  impervious  to  the 
rays  of  the  sun.  A  clear  spring  flowing  from 
the  upper  part  of  tlie  bank  -unong  the  hanging 
network  of  loose  fibres  and  twisted  roots,  fell 
tinkling  over  a  mossy  log  at  her  feet,  and  quietly 
anread  itself  among  the  round  shingly  pebbles 
that  formed  the  beach  of  the  lake.  Beneath 
this  pleasant  bower  Catharine  could  repose,  and 


THE    CAXADTAX   CRTSOES. 


85 


watcli  her  companions  at  tlioir  novel  cniploy* 
ment,  or  bathe  her  feet  and  infirm  ankle  in  the 
cool  streamlet  that  ri})pled  in  tiny  wavelets  over 
its  stony  bed. 

If  the  amusement  of  fishing  prove  pleasant 
and  exciting  when  pursued  for  pastime  only,  it 
may  readily  be  conceived  that  its  interest  must 
be  greatly  heightened  when  its  object  is  satis- 
fvino'  a  craving;  deg;ree  of  hun^^er.  Amono;  the 
sunny  spots  on  the  shore,  innumerable  swarms 
of  the  flying  grasshopper  or  field  crickets  were 
sporting,  and  one  of  these  proved  an  attractive 
bait.  The  lino  was  no  sooner  cast  into  the  wa- 
ter, than  the  hook  was  seized,  and  many  were 
the  brilliant  specimens  of  sun-fish  that  our 
eager  fishermen  cast  at  Catharine's  feet,  all 
gleaming  with  gold  and  azure  scales.  Nor  was 
there  any  lack  of  perch,  or  that  delicate  fish 
commonly  known  in  these  waters  as  the  pink 
roach. 

Tired  at  last  with  their  easy  sport,  the  hungry 
boys  next  proceeded  to  the  grateful  task  of 
scaling  and  dressing  their  fish,  and  this  they  did 
very  expeditiously,  as  soon  as  the  nriore  difficait 
part,  that  of  kindling  up  a  fire  on  the  beach,  had 
been  accomplished  with  the  help  of  the  flint, 
knife,  and  dried  rushes.  The  fish  were  then 
suspended,  Indian  fashion,  on  forked  sticks  stuck 
in  the  ground  and  inclined  at  a  suitable  angle 
8 


g 


66 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


towards  tlie  glowing  embers, — a  few  minutes 
sufTieed  to  cook  tliem. 

"  Truly,"  said  Catharine,  wlien  the  plentiful 
repast  was  set  before  her,  "  God  hath,  indeed, 
snread  a  table  for  us  here  in  the  wilderness ;"  so 
miraculous  did  this  ample  supply  of  delicious 
food  seem  in  the  eyes  of  this  simple  child  of 
nature. 

They  had  often  heard  tell  of  the  facility  with 
which  the  fish  could  be  caught,  but  they  had 
known  nothing  of  it  from  their  own  experience, 
£LS  the  streams  and  creeks  about  Cold  Springs 
afforded  them  but  little  opportunity  for  exercising 
their  skill  as  angjlers;  so  that  with  the  rude  im- 
plements  with  whicli  they  were  furnished,  there- 
suit  of  their  mornins;  success  seemed  little  short 
of  chvine  interference  in  their  behalf.  Happy 
and  contented  in  the  belief  that  thev  were  not 
forgotten  by  their  heavenly  Father,  these  poor 
"children  in  the  wood"  looked  up  with  grati- 
tude to  that  beneficent  Beinoj  who  sufiereth  not 
even  a  sparrow  to  fall  unheeded. 

Upon  Catharine,  in  particular,  these  things 
made  a  deep  impression,  and  there  as  she  sat  in 
the  green  shade,  soothed  by  the  lulling  sound  of 
the  flowing  waters,  and  +he  soft  murmuring  of 
the  many-coloured  insects  that  hovered  among 
whe  fraojrant  leaves  which  thatched  her  sylvan 
'jower,  her  young  heart  was  raised  in  humble 


THE   CANADIAN    CUL'SOES. 


87 


and  lioly  aspirations  to  the  great  Creator  of  all 
things  living.  A  peace ful  calm  diirused  itself 
over  her  mind,  as  with  hands  meekly  folded 
across  her  breast,  the  young  girl  prayed  with 
the  guileless  fervour  of  a  trusting  and  faithful 
heart. 

The  sun  was  just  sinking  in  a  flood  of  glory 
behind  the  dark  pine-woods  at  the  head  of  the 
lake,  when  JTector  and  Louis,  who  had  been 
carefully  providing  fish  for  the  morrow,  (which 
was  the  Sabbath,)  came  loaded  with  tlieir  finny 
prey  carefully  strung  upon  a  willow  wand,  and 
found  Catharine  sleeping  in  her  bower.  Louis 
was  loth  to  break  her  tranquil  slumbers,  but  her 
careful  brother  reminded  him  of  the  danger  to 
which  she  was  exposed,  sleeping  in  the  dew  by 
the  water  side;  "Moreover,"  he  added,  "we 
have  some  distance  to  go,  and  we  have  left  the 
precious  axe  and  the  birch-bark  vessel  in  the 
valley." 

These  thimrs  were  too  valuable  to  be  lost,  and 
BO  they  roused  the  sleeper,  and  slowly  recom- 
menced their  toilsome  way,  following  the  same 
path  that  they  had  made  in  the  morning.  For- 
tunately, Hector  had  taken  the  precaution  to 
bend  down  the  flexile  branches  of  the  dogwood 
and  break  the  tops  of  the  young  trees  that  they 
had  passed  between  on  their  route  to  the  lake, 
and  by  this  clue  they  were  enabled  with  toler- 


P5 
> 

S3 

r 

m 


38 


THE   CAXADIAN   CHL'SOES. 


i:ii 


able  certainty  to  retrace?  their  way,  nothing 
doubting  of  arriving  in  time  at  the  wigwam  of 
boughs  by  tlie  rock  in  tlje  valley. 

Their  progress  wa.s,  however,  slow,  burdened 
with  the  care  of  the  lame  girl,  and  heavily  laden 
with  the  fish.  The  purple  shades  of  twilight 
soon  clouded  the  scene,  deepened  by  the  heavy 
masses  of  foliai2;e,  whieli  east  a  j^rreater  deiiTee 
of  obscurity  upon  their  narrow  path ;  for  they 
had  now  left  the  oak-flat  and  entered  the  gorge 
of  the  valley.  The  utter  loneliness  of  the  path, 
the  grotesque  shadows  of  the  trees,  tliat  stretched 
in  long  array  across  the  steep  banks  on  either 
side,  taking,  now  this,  now  that  wild  and  fanci- 
ful shape,  awakened  strange  feelings  of  dread  in 
the  mind  of  these  poor  forlorn  wanderers  ;  like 
most  persons  bred  up  in  so^iiude,  their  imagina- 
tions were  strongly  tinctured  with  superstitious 
fears.  Here  then,  in  the  lonely  wilderness,  far 
from  their  beloved  parents  and  social  hefirth, 
with  no  visible  arm  to  protect  them  from  danger, 
none  to  encourage  or  to  cheer  them,  can  it  be 
matter  of  surprise  if  they  started  with  terrDr- 
blanched  cheeks  at  every  fitful  breeze  that  rtsr 
tied  the  leaves  or  waved  the  branches  abo^i 
them  ? 

The  gay  and  lively  Louis,  blithe  as  any  wild 
bird  in  the  bright  sunlight,  was  the  most  easily 
oppressed  by  this  strange  superstitious  fear,  when 


THE   CANADIAN'    CRrsOES. 


89 


the  shades  of  cvoiiing  wore  closing  round,  and 
he  would  start  witli  ill-disguised  terror  at  every 
sound  or  sliape  that  met  his  ear  or  eye,  tliough 
the  next  minute  he  was  the  first  to  laui^di  at  liin 
own  weakness.  In  Hector,  the  feeling  wns  of  a 
graver,  more  solemn  cnst,  recalling  to  liis  mind 
all  the  wild  and  wondrous  tales  with  which  his 
father  was  wont  to  entertain  the  children,  an 
they  crouched  round  the  huge  log-fire  of  an 
evening.  It  is  strange  the  charm  these  marvel- 
lous  tales  possess  for  tlie  youthful  mind,  no  mat- 
ter how  improbable,  or  how  often  told ;  year 
after  year  they  will  be  listened  to  with  the  same 
ardour,  with  an  interest  that  appears  to  grow 
with' repetition.  And  still,  as  they  slowly  wan- 
dered along,  Hector  would  repeat  to  his  breath- 
less auditors  those  Highland  legends  that  were 
as  familiar  to  their  ears  as  household  words,  and 
still  they  listened  with  fear  and  wonder,  and 
deep  awe,  till  at  each  pause  he  made,  the  deep- 
drawn  breath  and  half- repressed  shudder  might 
be  heard.  And  now  the  little  party  paused  ir- 
resolutely, fearing  to  proceed, — they  had  omitted 
to  notice  some  land-mark  in  their  progress ;  the 
moon  had  not  long  been  up,  and  her  light  was 
as  yet  indistinct;  so  they  set  them  down  on  a 
little  grassy  spot  on  the  bank,  and  rested  till 
fche  moon  should  lighten  their  path. 
Louis  was  confident  they  were  not  far  from 
8* 


n 

> 

llir 

r 
t 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


t 
% 


^/ 


4 

^  .<^: 


!^\<^ 


/L 


7. 


4 


V 


1.0 


I.I 


Li  12.8  |2.5 
■^  Ui  |2.2 
2.0 


140 


IMIi 


l.25|..4|,.6 

< 

6" 

^ — ► 

^ 


IV.^'^.^  %f^ 


^Vf^^^^^  .1 


%' 


''^ 


w 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  AAAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)872-4503 


:''>\* 


4 


^ 


%" 


1^ 
1\ 


f)0 


TllK    CANADIAN    (.'UrSOKS. 


"the  l>iL^  StoiK',"  l)ul  careful  Hector  liad  hi.'? 
tlonl)(s,  aiifi  C;.l!iariiie  was  weary.  ^I'lie  cliiMi'di 
had  ahvaily  conceived  a  sort  ol'  homo  feeliii,!:"  for 
tlie  valley  and  ihe  mass  of  stone  tiiat  had  sheltereil 
them  (or  so  many  nights,  and  soon  the  dai'k  ma>s 
came  in  siLiht,  as  the  broad  full  light  oi'  the 
now  risen  moon  fell  upon  its  rugged  si(h)s;  they 
were  nearer  to  it  than  thev  had  imagined. 

"Forward  lor 'the  Big  Stone'  and  the  wig 
warn,"  cried  Louis. 

"iruslil"     said     Catharine,      "look     there, 
raising  her  hand  with  a  warning  gesture. 

"Where?  what?" 

"'i'he  wolf!  the  wolf!"  gasped  out  the 
terrified  girl.  There  indeed,  upon  the  summit 
of  the  block,  in  the  attitude  of  a  sentinel  or 
watcher,  stood  the  gaunt-ligurcd  animal,  and  as 
she  spoke,  a  long  wild  cry,  the  sound  of  which 
seemed  as  if  it  came  midway  between  the  earth 
and  the  tops  of  the  tall  pines  on  the  lofty  ridge 
above  them,  struck  terror  into  their  hearts,  as 
with  speechless  horror  they  gazed  upon  the 
dark  outline  of  the  terrible  beast.  There  it 
stood,  with  its  head  raised,  its  neck  stretched 
outward,  and  ears  erect,  as  if  to  catch  the  echo 
that  gave  back  those  dismal  sounds;  another 
minute  and  he  was  gone,  and  tlie  crushing  oi 
branches,  and  the  rush  of  many  feet  on  the 
hiydi  bank  above,  was  followed  by  the  prolonged 


TllK    ('ANADIAN    ("Kl'SoKS. 


91 


cry  of  some  pix^r  fn'iitivc  aniiiial, — ti  (l<io,  or 
fawn,  perhaps, — in  the  yovy  climax  ol'  nioilal 
aL»(»ny ;  and  t\\on  tlio  lonclv  rcccssi.'S  ol'  iho 
forest  tcxjk  u])  tliat  fearful  (L'atli-ery,  the  I'ar- 
off  slior(\s  of  tlie  l:ik(»  and  ihe  distant  ishmd.s 
})i'olon^L'"cd  it,  ami  the  tei'ritit.Ml  children  clung 
tOLr<'ther  in  lear  and  trenibliuL*". 

A  few  minutes  ovei",  and  all  was  still.  The 
chase  had  turne(l  across  tli(^  hills  to  some  distant 
ravine;  the  wolves  were  all  ,Li'one — not  even  the 
watcher  was  left,  and  the  little  vallev  lav  once 
more  in  silence,  with  all  its  dewy  roses  and 
sweet  blossoms  i2^1itterin!]r  in  the  nioonliii'lit ;  but 
though  around  them  all  was  peace  atid  loveliness, 
it  was  long  ere  conlidence  was  restored  to  tho 
hearts  f)f  the  panic-stricken  and  trembling  chil- 
dren. They  beheld  a  savage  enemy  in  every 
mass  of  leafy  shade,  and  every  rustling  bough 
struck  fresh  terrors  into  their  excited  minds. 
Thev  miuht  have  exclaime(l  with  the  patriarch 
Jacob,  "How  dreadful  is  this  place!" 

AVith  hand  clasped  in  hand,  they  sat  them 
down  among  the  thick  covert  of  the  bushes,  for 
now  thev  feared  to  move  forward,  U\st  the 
wolves  should  return;  sleep  was  long  a  stranger 
to  their  watchful  eyes,  each  fearing  to  be  the  oid  v 
one  left  awake,  and  long  and  painful  was  their 
vigil.     Yet  nature,  overtiusked,  at  length  gave 

y,  o-vni  sleep  came  down  upon  their  eyelids; 


2 

"i 


92 


TIIK   CANADIAN'   CRrSOES. 


deep,  unbroken  sleep,  wliich  lafn-txitill  the  brund 
Bunliixht  brcakini^  tlioiiL!;li  the  kjafy  curtains  of 
their  forest-bed,  and  the  sound  of  wavinuj  l)oughs 
and  twittering  birds,  once  m^re  awakened  them 
to  life  and  light,  recalHng  them  from  happy 
dreams  of  home  and  friends  to  an  aeliing  sense 
of  loneliness  and  desolation.  This  day  they  did 
not  wander  far  from  the  valley,  but  took  the  jire- 
caution,  as  evening  drew  on,  to  light  a  large  lire, 
the  blaze  of  which  they  thought  would  keep 
away  any  beast  of  prey.  They  had  no  want  of 
food,  as  the  fish  they  had  caught  the  day  before 
proved  an  am[)le  supply.  The  huckleberries 
were  ripening  too,  and  soon  afforded  them  a 
never-failing  source  of  food;  there  was  also  an 
abundance  of  bilberries,  the  sweet  rich  berries 
of  which  proved  a  great  treat,  besides  being  verj 
nourishing. 


■Hi 


THE    CANADIAN    CiiUSOES. 


93 


CHAPTER    III. 

"Oil  Ibr  a  U>(\'^{.-  in  the  v;i.st  wililernosH, 
Tlio  bouiiJk;!sn  cuiilijg'uily  of  shaily  1" 

A  FOirrNIGIlT  liud  iiou'  passed,  and  Cath- * 
'*~^  arine  still  snil'iTL'd  so  much  from  })ain  and 
fever,  that  they  were  unable  to  continue  their 
wandei'inus;  all  that  llectoi'and  his  cousin  could 
do,  was  to  carry  her  to  the  bower  by  the  lak(», 
wiiere  she  reclined  whilst  they  caught  lish.  The 
])ainful  lonuin^  to  rei»:ain  their  lost  home  liad  lost 
nothing  of  its  intensity;  and  often  would  the  poor 
sullerer  start  from  her  bed  of  leaves  and  boughs, 
to  ring  her  hands  and  wee[),  and  call  in  piteous 
tones  upon  that  dear  father  and  mother,  who 
would  have  given  worlds,  had  they  been  at  their 
command,  to  have  heard  but  one  accent  of  her 
beloved  voice,  to  have  felt  one  loving  pressure 
from  that  fevered  hand.  Ilo})e,  the  consoler, 
hovered  over  the  path  of  the  young  wanderers 
long  after  she  had  ceased  U)  whisper  comfort  to 
the  desolate  hearts  of  the  mournful  ])arents. 

Of  all  that  sulU'i'cd  bv  this  sad  calamitv,  no 
one  was  more  to  bo  pitied  than  Louis  Perron  ■ 
deeply  did  the  poor  boy  lament  the  thoughtless 


f5 


94 


'J'llK    CANADIAN    CIMSOKS. 


!'l 


folly  which  h;id  involved  liLs  cousin  Catharine 
in  HO  terrible  a  niiril'ortunc.  "if  Kate  had  not 
been  with  me,"  he  woidd  sa}',  "  wc  should  not 
liave  been  lost;  for  Hector  is  so  cautious  and  so 
carelul,  he  would  not  have  left  the  cattle-] >allj ; 
but  we  wei'e  so  heedless,  wc  th()U,^i)t  only  of 
flowers  and  insects,  of  birds,  and  such  trilks,  .mid 
j^paid  no  heed  to  our  way/'  Louis  Perron,  such 
is  life.  'J'he  youuLf  press  gayly  onward,  gathcr- 
inu  the  flowers,  and  Ibllowiirjf  the  iiav  butter- 
flies  that  attract  them  in  the  I'orni  of  })leasure 
and  amusement;  thev  fjruet  the  ij^rave  counsels 
of  the  thoughtful,  till  they  fmd  the  ])ath  they 
have  followed  is  beset  with  briers  and  thorns  ; 
and  a  thousand  ))aiuful  dilliculties  that  were  un- 
seen, unexpected,  overwhelm  and  bring  them  to 
a  sad  sense  of  their  own  folly  ;  and  perhaps  the 
punishment  of  their  errors  does  not  fall  upon 
themselves  alone,  but  u[)on  the  innt)cent,  wdio 
have  unknowingly  been  made  participators  in 
their  fault. 

By  the  kindest  and  tenderest  attention  to  all 
her  comforts,  Louis  endeavoured  to  alleviate  his 
cousin's  sufferings,  and  soften  her  regrets;  nay, 
he  would  often  speak  cheerfully  and  even  gayly  , 
to  her,  when  his  own  heart  was  heavy,  and  his 
eyes  ready  to  overflow  with  tears. 

*']f  it  were  not  for  our  dear  })arcnts  and  the 
dear  children   at   home,"   he   would  say,   "  wo 


THK    CANADIAN    CUl'SOKS. 


95 


•0  LI  ri- 
le 111  to 
)S  tlio 

Up(Jll 

who 


to  all 

itc  Ins 

l1  liLs 

(1  the 
"  wo 


might  R[)cn(I  our  time  iriost  ]Kip[)ily  a[)()ii  these 
charming  })hiin.-;;  it  is  iiiiieh  more  delightful 
hero  than  in  the  dark,  thiek  woods  ;  see  liow 
brightly  the  sunbeams  eome  down  and  ghulden 
the  ground,  and  eover  the  earth  with  fi'uit  and 
flowers.  Jt  is  ])li3asant  to  be  able  to  lish  and 
hunt,  and  trap  the  game.  Yes,  if  they  were  all 
here,  we  would  buihl  us  a  ni<.'(;  logdiouse,  and 
clear  up  tliese  bushes  on  the  llat  iit^ir  the  lake. 
This  'Kllhi  Knowe,'  as  you  eall  it,  Ivate,  would 
be  a  nice  spot  to  build  u[)on.  Sjo  these  glori- 
ous old  oaks;  not  one  should  be  cut  down,  anci 
we  should  have  a  boat  and  a  eanoe,  juid  voyage 
across  to  yonder  islands.  Would  it  not  be 
charming,  ma  belle?"  and  Catharine,  smiliuL^  at 
the  picture  drawn  so  eloquently,  would  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  project,  and  say, — 

"Ah!  Louis,  that  would  be  pleasant." 

"If  we  had  but  my  father's  rifle  now,"  said 
Hector,   "  and  old  Wolfe." 

"  Yes,  and  Fanchctte,  dear  little  Fanchctte, 
that  trees  the  partridges  and  black  squirrels," 
said  Louis. 

"I  saw  a  doe  and  a  half-grown  fawn  beside 
her  this  very  morning,  at  break  of  day,"  said 
Hector.  "  The  fawn  was  so  little  fearful,  that 
if  1  had  had  a  stick  in  my  hand,  I  couhl  have 
killed  it.  I  came  within  ten  yards  of  the  spot 
where  it  stood.     1  know  it  would  be  easy  to 


tl 


P 


V)6 


iriK   CANADIAN"   ClU'SOKS. 


cat(!li  Olio  bv  making  a  (Icail-fiill."     [A  sort  ol 
trap  ill  which  gamo  is  taken  in  tho  woodri,  or  ou 
the  hanks  of  crocks.] 

"If  \vc  liad  but  a  dear  fawn  to  troiic  about 
lis,  like  Mi.Liiion,  dear  innocent  Million,"  cried 
Catharines,  "  I  should  never  ie(  1  lonely  then." 

"And  W(j  should  never  want  for  meat,  if  we 
could  catch  a  line  fawn  IVom  time  to  time,  ma 
belle." 

*'  Ilec,  what  arc  you  tliinkin<^  of?" 

"  I  was  thinkin^L^,  Louis,  that  if  wc  were 
doomed  to  remain  here  idl  our  lives,  we  must 
build  a  house  for  ourselves;  we  could  not  live 
in  the  o|)en  air  without  shelter  as  we  have 
done.  The  summer  will  soon  })ass,  and  the 
rainy  season  will  come,  and  the  bitter  frosts 
and  snows  of  winter  will  have  to  be  provided 
against." 

"l^ut.  Hector,  do  you  really  think  there  is  no 
chance  of  fnubng  our  way  back  to  Cold  Springs? 
We  know  it  must  be  behind  this  lake,"  said 
Louis. 

"  True,  but  whether  east,  west,  or  south,  we 
cannot  tell ;  and  whichever  way  we  take  now 
is  l)Ut  a  chance,  and  if  once  we  leave  the  lake 
and  get  involved  in  the  mazes  of  that  dark 
forest,  we  should  perish,  for  we  know  there  is 
neither  water  nor  berries,  nor  game  to  be  had 
as  there  is  here,  and  we  might  be  soon  starved 


THI-:   CANADIAN    CKLSOKS. 


97 


ort  ol 
,  or  ou 

about 
'  cried 
icn." 
t,  if  we 
me,  ma 


c  were 
re  must 
lot  live 
e  liiivc 
11(1  tli-e 
ir  frosts 
ovided 

|-e  is  no 
)rings? 


n 


said 


ith,  we 

|e  now 

le  lake 

dark 

\ere  is 

ie  bad 

tarved 


to  death.  God  was  good  who  led  us  beside  this 
fine  lake,  and  upon  these  fruitful  plains." 

'*It  is  a  gi)od  tiling  that  I  had  my  axe  when 
we  started  from  Iiouil',"  said  Hector.  "  We 
sijould  not  have  been  so  well  olf  without  it;  wo 
shall  lind  the  use  ol'  it  if  we  have  to  build  a 
house.  We  must  look  out  for  some  spot  where 
there  is  a  spring  of  go(jd  water,  and — " 

"  No  lujrrible  wolves,"  inttMTU[)ted  Catharine : 
"  though  I  love  this  pretty  ravine,  and  the  banks 
and  braes  about  us,  1  do  not  think  I  shall  like 
to  stay  hero.  I  heard  the  wolves  only  last  night, 
when  you  and  Louis  were  asleep." 

"  We  must  not  forget  to  keep  watch-fires." 

"  What  shall  we  do  for  clothes?"  said  Catha- 
rine, glancing  at  her  home-spun  frock  of  wool 
and  cotton  plaid. 

"  A   weightv  consideration,   indeed  "  sighed 

a        t/  I  7  0 

Hector;  "clothes  must  be  provided  before  ours 
are  worn  out   and  the  winter  comes  on." 

"  We  must  ^  ave  all  the  skins  of  the  wood- 
chucks  and  squirrels,"  suggested  Louis;  "and 
fawns  when  we  catch  them." 

"  Yes,  and  fawns  when  we  get  them,"  added 
Hector;  "but  it  is  time  enough  to  think  of  all 
these  things ;  we  must  not  give  up  all  hope  of 
home." 

"  I  give  up  all  hope  ?     I  shall  hope  on  while 

I  have  life,"  said  Catharine.     "  My  dear,  dear 
9 


ir 


98 


TlIK   CANADIAN    CULSUKS. 


fatlicr,  he  will  nrvcr  forget  his  lost  cliihUeii ;  ho 
will  try  juid  liiul  ns,  alive  or  dciid  ;  he  will  never 
give  up  the  seiireh." 

Poor  child,  how  long  did  this  hope  burn  liko 
a  living  torch  in  thy  guileless  breast  I  How 
often,  as  they  roamed  tluxMi  hills  and  valleys, 
were  thine  eyes  sent  into  ihc  gloomy  recesses 
of  the  dark  ravines  and  tiiick  bushes,  with  the 
hope  that  they  would  meet  the  advancing  form 
and  outstretched  arms  of  thy  earthly  })arcnts  I 
all  in  vain — yet  the  arms  of  thy  heavenly  Fa- 
ther were  extended  over  thee,  to  guide,  to  guard, 
and  to  sustain  thee. 

IIow  often  were  Catharine's  hands  lilled  with 
wild-flowers,  to  carry  home,  as  she  fondly  said, 
to  sick  Louise,  or  her  mother  Poor  Catharine, 
how  often  did  your  bouc[uets  fade ;  how  often 
did  the  sad  exile  water  them  with  her  tears, — • 
for  hers  was  the  hope  that  keeps  alive  despair. 

AVhen  they  roused  them  in  the  morning  to 
recommence  their  fruitless  wanderings,  they 
would  say  to  each  other,  "  Perhaps  we  shall  see 
our  father — he  may  find  us  here  to-day  ;"  but 
evening  came,  and  still  he  came  not,  and  they 
were  no  nearer  lo  their  father's  home  than  they 
had  been  the  day  previous. 

*'  If  we  could  but  find  our  way  back  to  the 
*  Cold  Creek,'  we  might,  by  following  its  course, 
return  to  Cold  Springs,"  said  Hector. 


TIIK    CANAIMAX    L'liUSOES. 


90 


11 ;  ho 
never 


n  Viko 
lluw 

alU'Vi*, 

ilh  the 
)X  form 
ircntsl 
ily  Fa- 
giuml, 


to  the 
lourse, 


"I  doubt  Hindi  the  Ihct  of  the  'Cold  Civek ' 
having  jiiiy  eoimcetioii  wilh  our  SpriuL,^,"  said 
Louis;  "1  think  it  has  ils  rise  in  the  '  JJeaver 
Meadow,'  and  following'  its  course  would  only 
cntan^ile  us  anionii;  those  wollish  balsam  and  co- 
(lar  swani])s,  or  lead  us  yet  further  astray  into 
the  thiek  reeesses  of  tlu^  })iiie  Ibrest.  For  my 
j)art,  I  believe  we  are  already  fifty  miles  from 
Cold  S[)rings." 

It  is  one  of  the  bewildering  mistakes  that  all 
j)ersons  who  lose  their  way  in  the  pathless  woodd 
fall  into,  they  have  no  idea  of  distance,  or  tho 
points  of  the  compass,  unless  they  can  see  tho 
sun  rise  and  set,  which  is  not  possiljle  to  do 
when  surrounded  by  the  dense  growth  of  forest- 
trees  ;  they  rather  measure  distance  by  the  timo 
they  have  been  wandering,  than  by  any  other 
token. 

The  children  knew  that  they  had  been  a  long 
time  absent  from  home,  wandering  hither  and 
thither,  and  they  fancied  their  journey  had  been 
as  long  as  it  had  been  weary.  They  had  indeed 
the  comfort  of  seeing  the  sun  in  his  course  from 
east  to  west,  but  they  knew  not  in  wdiat  direc- 
tion the  home  they  had  lost  lay ;  it  was  this 
that  troubled  them  in  their  choice  of  the  course 
they  should  take  each  day,  and  at  last  deter- 
mined them  to  lose  no  more  time  so  fruitlessly, 
where  the  peril  was  so  great,  but  seek  for  some 


& 


uri 


*  »•. 


w 


I 


100 


THE  CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


plf'Msaiit  spot  wlicr(;  tlu^y  ini,L»lit  ])a.sa  tlioir  time 
in  salVty,  aiul  provide  fur  their  present  and  fu* 
tare  wants. 

"  Tlio  worM  waH  nil  l)oforo  thom,  wlicro  to  cliooso 
Their  place  of  rost,  uiul  I'roviilcuco  tlioir  guide." 

Catliarino  doelared  her  nnklo  was  so  mucli 
BtHjiiL^er  than  it  liad  been  sinee  tlie  aeeident,  and 
lier  healtli  so  much  amended,  that  the  day  after 
the  conversation  just  recorded,  the  little  jiarty 
bade  farewell  to  the  valley  of  the  "Bi;^^  Stone," 
and  ascending  the  steep  sides  of  the  hills,  bent 
their  stejis  eastward,  keeping  the  lake  to  their 
left  hand.  Hector  led  the  way,  loaded  with 
their  household  utensils,  which  consisted  only  of 
the  axe,  which  he  would  trust  to  no  one  but 
himself,  the  tin-pot,  and  the  birch  basket.  Louis 
liad  his  cousin  to  assist  up  the  steep  banks,  like- 
wise some  fish  to  carry,  which  had  been  caught 
early  in  the  morning. 

The  wanderers  thought  at  first  to  explore  the 
ground  near  the  lake  shore,  but  soon  abandoned 
this  resolution,  on  finding  tiie  under-growtli  of 
trees  and  bushes  become  so  thick,  that  they 
made  little  progress ;  and  the  fatigue  of  travel- 
ling was  greatly  increased  by  having  continually 
to  ]Mit  aside  the  bushes  or  bend  them  down. 

Hector  {idvised  trying  the  higher  ground; 
p,nd  after  following  a  deer-path  through  a  small 


Tllh:   CANAIilAN    CULSOKS. 


lUl 


raviuo  tli;it  crossed  th(»  hills,  they  lomul  tliftii* 
selves  on  a  lino  extent  ol'  t;il)le-lantl,  rielily,  but 
not  too  tlenselv  wooded  with  white  and  lihielc 
oaks,  diversilied  with  here  and  tiiei'o  a  solilMry 
pine,  whieh  reared  its  straight  and  pilhirdiko 
trunk  in  stately  "grandeur  above  its  leafv  com- 
panions; a  meet  cvrie  for  the  bald-ea<jle  tliat 
k(»pt  wateh  iVom  its  dark  crest  (jver  the  sih-nt 
waters  of  liic  lake,  spread  below  like  a  silver 
zone  studded  with  emeralds. 

Jn  their  proi^ress,  they  passed  the  h(\id  of 
many  small  ravinc^s,  which  divided  the  hill^ 
chores  of  the  lake  into  dc.'p  furrows.  ^IMiese  fur- 
rows had  once  Ix.'en  channels,  bv  which  the 
waters  of  some  upper  lake  (the  site  of  which  is 
now  dry  land)  had  at  a  former  period  poured 
down  into  the  valley,  lillin;^  the  basin  of  what 
now  is  called  tlu^  Rici^  Lake,  ^rhcsc  waters  witii 
resistless  course  had  i)louuhed  their  wav  between 
the  hills,  bcarin,!^  in  their  course  those  blocks  of 
granite  and  limestone  which  are  so  widely  scat 
tered  both  on  the  hill-to]is  and  the  plains,  or 
form  a  rocky  jiavcment  at  the  bottom  of  the 
narrow  defiles.  What  a  sidit  of  sublime  deso- 
lation  must  that  outpouring  of  the  waters  have 
f)resentcd,  when  those  steep  banks  were  riven 
by  the  sweeping  torrents  that  were  loosened 
from   their  former  bounds !     The  pleased  eye 

rests  upon  these  tranquil  shores,  now  covered 
9* 


1^ 

I  pi 

im 

1 


102 


THE    CANADIAN    CIM'SOKS. 


with  oaks  and  pinos,  oi*  waviii^ii*  with  a  flood  cf 
golden  grain,  or  varied  l)y  neat  dwellings  and 
fruitful  gardens  ;  and  the  gazer  on  that  })eaccfui 
scene  scarcely  pictures  to  himself  what  it  must 
have  be(!n  when  no  livin<j^evc  was  there  to  mark 
the  rushinu;  floods,  when  they  scooped  to  thcm- 
Belves  the  deep  bed  in  wliieh  they  now  repose. 

Those  lovely  islands  that  sit  like  stately 
crowns  U))on  tlu;  waters,  were  doubtless  the 
wreck  that  remained  oi'  the  valley;  elevated 
spots,  whose  rocky  basis  withstood  the  force  of 
the  rushinu^  waters,  that  carried  away  the  lighter 
portions  of  the  soil.  The  southern  shore,  seen 
from  the  lake,  seenis  to  lie  in  reaularridii'cs  run 
ning  from  south  to  north ;  some  few  are  ])arallel 
with  the  lake-shore,  possibly  where  some  insur 
mountablc  impediment  turned  the  current  of  the 
subsiding?  waters;  but  thev  all  find  an  outlet 
through  their  connection  with  ravines  communi- 
cating with  the  lake. 

There  is  a  beautiful  level  tract  of  land,  with 
only  here  and  there  a  solitary  oak  growing  upon 
it,  or  a  few  stately  pines;  it  is  commonly  called 
the  "upper  Kace-course,"  merely  on  account  of 
tlie  smoothness  of  the  surface;  it  forms  a  high 
table-land,  nearl}^  three  hundred  feet  above  the 
hdvc,  and  is  surrounded  by  high  hills.  This 
spot,  though  now  dry  and  covered  with  turf  and 
flowers,    and   low   bushes,    has   evidently  onco 


THE    CANADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


103 


been  a  broad  sheet  of  water.  To  the  eastward 
lies  a  still  more  lovely  and  attractive  spot, 
known  as  the  "  lower  llace-course  ;"  it  lies  on  a 
lower  level  than  the  former  one,  and,  like  it,  is 
embanked  by  a  ridge  of  distant  hills  ;  both 
have  ravines  leading  down  to  the  Rice  Lake, 
and  may  have  been  the  sonrees  from  whence  its 
channel  was  lilled.  Some  convulsion  of  nature 
at  a  remote  period,  by  raising  llu^.  waters  above 
their  natural  level,  might  have  c.uij^id  a  disrup- 
tion of  the  banks,  and  drained  ihuir  beds,  as 
they  now  appear  ready  for  the  f)loughshare  or 
the  spade.  In  the  month  of  June  thrse  flats  are 
brilliant  with  the  splendid  bloss-jms  of  the  en- 
chroma,  or  painted-cup,  the  azure  lupine  and 
snowy  tril/iian  roses  scent  the  evening  air,  and 
grow  as  if  planted  by  the  hand  of  taste. 

A  carpeting  of  the  small  downy  saxifrage* 
with  its  white  silky  leaves  covers  the  ground  in 
early  spring.  In  the  fall,  it  is  red  with  the 
bright  berries  and  dark,  box-shaped  leaves  of  a 
species  of  creeping  winter-green,  that  the  In- 
dians call  spiceberry ;  the  leaves  are  highly 
aromatic,  and  it  is  medicinal  as  well  as  agree- 
able ^to  tl.j  taste  and  smell.  In  the  month  of 
July  a  gorgeous  assemblage  of  martagon  lilies 
take  the  place  of  the  lupine  and  triUiums;  these 


> 

Ufm 

m 


Kvi 


♦  Saxifrnga  nivalis. 


lOi 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


Splendid  lilies  vary  from  orange  to  the  bri^'htest 
scarlet;  various  species  of  sunflowers  and  core- 
ojysis  next  appear,  and  elegant  white  pj/rolas* 
scent  the  air  and  charm  the  eve.  The  delicate 
lilac  and  white  shrubby  asters  next  appear,  and 
these  are  followed  by  the  large,  deep  blue  gen- 
tian, and  here  and  there'  1)V  the  elegant  fringed 
gentian.f  These  are  the  latest  and  loveliest  of 
the  flowers  that  adorn  this  tract  of  land.  It  is 
indeed  a  garden  of  nature's  own  planting,  but 
the  Avild  garden  is  being  converted  into  fields 
of  grain,  and  the  wild  flowers  give  place  to  a 
new  race  of  vegetables,  less  ornamental,  but 
more  useful  to  man  and  the  races  of  domestic 
animals  that  depend  upon  him  for  their  sup- 
port. 

Our  travellers,  after  wandering  over  this  lovely 
plain,  found  themselves,  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
at  the  bead  of  a  fine  ravine,;}:  where  they  had 
the  good  fortune  to  perceive  a  spring  of  pure 
water,  oozing  beneath  some  large  moss-covered 
blocks  of  black  water-worn  granite  ;  the  ground 
was  thickly  covered  with  moss  about  the  edges 
of  the  spring,  and  many  varieties  of  flowering 
slirubs  and  fruits  were  scattered  along  the  val- 
ley and  up  the  steep  sides  of  the  surrounding 

*  Tyrola  rotnndifolia,  P.  a?«arifolia. 

t  Gentiana  linearis,  G.  creiiata. 

t  Kilveft's  Ravine,  above  i'iuo-tree  Point. 


THE   CAXADIAX    CRUSOKS. 


105 


hills.  There  were  whortleberries,  or  huckleber- 
ries, lis  ftiey  are  more  usually  called,  in  abun* 
dance ;  bilberries  dead  ripe,  and  falling  from  the 
bushes  at  a  touch.  The  vines  that  wreathed 
the  low  bushes  and  climbed  the  trees  were  load- 
ed with  clusters  of  grapes,  l)ut  these  were  yet 
hard  and  green  ;  dwarf  lilberts  grew  on  the  dry 
gravelly  sides  of  the  hills,  yet  the  rough,  prickly 
calyx  that  enclosed  the  nut,  filled  their  lingers 
witli  minute  thorns,  that  irritated  the  skin  like 
the  stings  of  the  nettle ;  but  as  the  kernel  when 
ripe  was  sweet  and  good,  they  did  not  mind  the 
consequences.  The  moist  part  of  the  valley 
was  occupied  by  a  large  bed  of  May-apples,*  the 
fruit  of  whicli  was  of  unusual  size,  but  they 
were  not  ripe,  August  being  the  month  when 
they  ripen ;  there  were  also  wild  plums  still 
green,  and  wild  cherries  and  blackberries  ripen- 
ing; there  were  great  numbers  of  the  wood- 
chucks'  burrows  on  the  hills,  while  partridges 
and  quails  were  seen  under  the  thick  covert  of 
the  blue-berried  dog-wood,f  that  here  grew  in 
abundance  at  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  where  it 
opened  to  the  lake.     As  this  spot  offered  many 


ft*  J 

mm 

m 

f 

t 
I 


*  Pednphjllum palmnia, — Mandrake,  or  May-applo. 

t  Cornue  sei'icea.  The  blue  berries  of  this  shrub  aro  eaten 
by  the  partridge  and  wild  ducks  ;  also  by  the  pigeons  and  other 
birds.  There  aro  several  species  of  this  shrub  common  tc  the 
Uice  liuko. 


106 


THE   CAXADIAX    CiirSOES. 


advantages,  our  travellers  halted  for  the  night, 
and  resolved  to  make  it  their  licad-qArters  for 
a  season,  till  thoy  should  meet  with  an  eligible 
situation  for  building  a  winter  shelter. 

Here,  then,  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  sheltered 
by  one  of  the  rounded  hills  that  formed  ita 
sides,  our  young  people  erected  a  summer  hut, 
somewlrat  after  the  fashion  of  an  Indian  wig- 
wam, which  was  all  the  shelter  that  was  requisite 
while  the  weather  remained  so  warm.  Through 
the  opening  at  the  gorge  of  this  ravine  they 
enjoyed  a  peep  at  the  distant  waters  of  the  lake 
which  terminated  the  vista,  while  thev  were 
quite  removed  from  its  unwholesome  vapours. 

The  temperature  of  the  air  for  some  days  had 
been  hot  and  sultry,  scarcely  modified  by  the 
cool  delicious  breeze  that  usuallv  sets  in  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  blows  most  refreshingly  till 
four  or  five  in  the  afternoon.  Hector  and  Louis 
had  gone  down  to  fish  for  supper,  while  Catharine 
busied  herself  in  collecting  leaves  and  dried 
deer-grass,  moss,  and  fern,  of  which  there  was 
abundance  near  the  tspring.  The  boys  had 
promised  to  cut  some  fresh  cedar  boughs  near 
the  lake  shore,  and  bring  them  up  to  form  a 
foundation  for  their  bed,  and  also  to  strew 
Indian-fashion  over  the  floor  of  the  hut  by  way 
of  a  carpet.  This  sort  of  carpeting  reminds  one 
of  the  times  when  the  palaces  of  the  English 


THE    CANADIAN'    CJIL'.SOKS. 


lo; 


kings  were  strewed  with  rashes,  and  brings  to 
mind  the  old  son^'i — 


"  oil !  the  ijoldcn  days  of  cfood  Queen  Boss, 
"VVIien  the  tloors  were  .strowM  witli  ruslies 
And  the  doors  went  on  the  liitx^h " 

Despise  not  then,  you,  my  refined  young 
reiiders,  the  rude  expedients  adopted  by  theso 
simple  ehildren  of  the  forest,  who  knew  nothing 
of  the  luxuries  that  were  to  be  met  with  in  the 
liouses  of  tlie  great  and  the  rich.  The  fragrant 
carpet  of  cedar  or  hemlock-spruce  sprigs  strewn 
lightly  over  the  earthen  floor,  was  to  them 
a  luxury  as  great  as  if  it  had  been  taken  from 
the  looms  of  Persia  or  Turkey,  so  happy  and 
contented  were  they  in  their  ignorance.  Their 
bed  of  freshly  gathered  grass  and  leaves,  raised 
from  the  earth  by  a  heap  of  branches  carefully 
arranged,  was  to  them  as  pleasant  as  beds  of 
down,  and  the  rude  hut  of  bark  and  poles,  as 
curtains  of  silk  or  damask. 

Having  collected  as  much  of  these  materials  ag 
sne  deemed  sufficient  for  the  purpose,  Catharine 
next  gathered  up  dry  oak  branches,  plenty  of 
which  lay  scattered  here  and  there,  to  make  a 
wnt<)h-fire  for  the  night,  and  this  done,  weary 
and  warm,  she  sat  down  on  a  little  hillock, 
beneath  the  cooling  shade  of  a  grove  of  young 
aspens,  that  grew  near  the  hut ;  pleased  with  tho 


6 

pi- J 


(H 


I         I 


lOS 


THE    CANADIAN    (  lU'SUES. 


dunc'mg  of  the  leaves,  wliicli  fluttered  above  her 
head,  and  fanned  her  warm  cheek  with  their 
incessant  motion,  she  thought,  like  her  cousin 
Louise,  that  the  aspen  was  the  merriest  tree  in 
the  forest,  for  it  was  always  dancing,  dancing, 
dancinof,  even  wlien  all  the  rest  were  still. 

She  watched  the  f]jatherinc]:  of  the  distant 
thunder-clouds,  which  cast  a  deeper,  more  sombre 
shade  upon  the  pines  that  girded  the  northern 
shores  of  the  lake  as  with  an  ebon  frame. 
Insensibly  her  thoughts  wandered  far  away 
from  the  lonely  spot  whereon  she  sat,  to  the 
stoup*  in  front  of  her  father's  house,  and  in 
memory's  eye  she  beheld  it  all  exactly  as  she 
liad  left  it.  There  stood  the  big  spinning-wheel, 
just  as  she  had  set  it  aside;  the  hanks  of  dyed 
yarn  suspended  from  the  rafters,  the  basket  filled 
with  the  carded  wool  ready  for  her  work.  She 
saw  in  fancy  her  father,  with  his  fine  athletic 
upright  figure,  his  sunburnt  cheeks  and  cluster- 
ing sable  hair,  his  clear,  energetic  hazel  eye  ever 
beaming  upon  her,  his  favourite  child,  with 
looks  of  love  and  kindness  as  she  moved  to  and 
fro  at  her  wheel.f  There,  too,  was  her  mother, 
with  her  light  step  and  sweet,  cheerful  voice, 


*  The  Dutch  word  for  verandiah,  which  is  still  in  commoo 
ase  among  tlie  Canadians. 

t  Such  is  the  nictliod  of  workinjf  at  the  large  wool  wheel, 
unknown  except  in  Canada. 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


109 


commoD 


Binding  as  she  pursued  her  daily  avocations, 
and  Donald  and  Kenneth  driving  up  the  cows 
to  bo  milked,  or  chopi)ing  firewood.  And  as 
these  images,  like  the  ligures  of  the  magic 
lantern,  passed  in  all  their  living  colours  before 
her  mental  vision,  her  head  drooped  heavier 
and  lower  till  it  sunk  upon  her  arm,  and  then 
slic  started,  looked  round,  and  slept  again,  her 
face  deeply  buried  in  her  young  bosom;  and 
long  and  peacefully  the  young  girl  slumbered. 

A  sound  of  hurrying  feet  approaches,  a  wild 
:ry  is  heard  and  panting  breath,  and  the  sleeper 
with  a  startling  scream  sprang  to  her  feet ;  she 
dreamed  that  she  was  strugGjlinuj  in  the  fano'sof 
a  wolf — its  grisly  paws  were  clasped  about  her 
throat ;  the  feeling  was  agony  and  suffocation — 
her  languid  eyes  open.  Can  it  be? — what  is  it 
that  she  sees?  Yes,  it  is  Wolfe;  not  the  fierce 
creature  of  her  dreams  by  night  and  her  fears 
by  day,  but  her  flxther's  own  brave,  devoted  dog. 
What  joy,  what  hope  rushed  to  her  heart!  She 
threw  herself  upon  the  shaggy  neck  of  the  faith- 
ful beast,  and  wept  from  the  fulness  of  heart. 

"  Yes,"  she  joyfully  cried,  "  I  knew  that  I 
should  see  him  again.  My  own  dear,  dear, 
loving  father !  Father !  flxther !  dear,  dear 
father  here  are  your  children.  Come,  come 
quickly !"  and  she  hurried  to  the  head  of  the 
valley,  raising  her  voice,  that  the  beloved  parent, 
10 


> 


i  < 


110 


THE   CANADIAN    CUUSOES. 


who  she  now  conridcntly  believed  wiis  ap- 
proaeliiug,  might  he  guided  to  the  spot  by  the 
welhkuowii  sound  of  her  voiec. 

Poor  chihll  the  eehoes  of  thy  eager  voice, 
pn^longed  by  every  projecting  headkmd  of  the 
valley,  replied  in  mocking  tones,  ''  Come 
quickly  !" 

Bewildereil  she  paused,  listened  breathlessly, 
and  again  she  called,  "  Father,  come  quickly, 
come !"  and  again  the  deceitful  sounds  were 
repeated,  "  Quickly  come  I" 

The  fixithful  dog,  who  had  succeeded  in  track- 
ing the  steps  of  his  lost '  mistress,  raised  hia 
bead  and  erected,  his  ears,  as  she  called  on  her 
father's  name ;  but  he  gave  no  joyful  bark  of 
recognition  as  he  was  wont  to  do  when  he  heard 
his  master's  step  aj^proaching.  Still  Catharine 
could  not  but  think  that  AVolfe  had  only  hurried 
on  before,  and  that  her  father  must  be  very 
near. 

The  sound  of  her  voice  had  been  heard  by 
her  brother  and  cousin,  who,  fearing  some  evil 
beast  had  made  its  way  to  the  Avigwam,  hastily 
wound  up  their  line,  and  left  the  lishing-ground 
to  hurry  to  her  assistance.  They  could  hardly 
believe  their  eyes  when  they  saw  AVolfe,  faithful 
old  Wolfe,  their  earliest  friend  and  playfellow, 
named  by  their  father  after  the  gallant  hero  of 
Quebec.     And  they  too,  like  Catharine,  thought 


THE    CANADIAN    (.'HUSOES. 


Ill 


that  their  friends  were  not  far  distant,  ai.d  joy* 
fully  they  climbed  the  hills  and  shoute<l  ahnid, 
and  WollV'  was  coaxed  and  caressed,  and  besought 
to  follow  them  to  point  out  the  way  thcv  should 
take :  but  all  their  entreaties  were  in  vain  ;  worn 
out  with  fitiufue  and  loncj  fistinii",  the  t)oor  old 
dog  refused  to  quit  the  embers  of  the  i\vc^  before 
which  he  stretched  himself,  and  the  boys  now 
noticed  his  gaunt  frame  and  wasted  flesh — he 
looked  almost  starved.  The  fact  now  became 
evident  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  ij^reat  cxhaus- 

CD 

tion.  Catharine  thought  he  eyed  the  spring 
with  wishful  looks,  and  she  soon  suppliinl  him 
with  water  in  the  bark  dish,  to  his  great  re- 
lief. 

AYolfe  had  been  out  for  several  davs  with  his 
master,  who  would  repeat,  in  tones  of  sad  earn- 
estness, to  the  faithful  creature,  "  Lost,  lost, 
lost  1"  It  was  his  custom  to  do  so  when  the 
cattle  strayed,  and  Wolfe  would  travel  in  all 
directions  till  he  found  them,  nor  ceased  his 
search  till  he  discovered  the  objects  he  was 
ordered  to  brinj]^  home.  The  last  niaht  of  the 
father's  wanderings,  when,  sick  and  hopeless, 
he  came  back  to  his  melancholv  home,  as  he  sat 
sleeplessly  rocking  himself  to  and  fro,  he  in- 
voluntarily exclaimed,  wringing  his  hands, 
"  Lost,  lost,  lost  I"  Wolfe  heard  what  to  him 
was  an  imperative  command ;  he  rose,  and  stood 


MTM 


I.) 


:     1 


112 


TIIK   CANADIAN    (  It L' SUES 


nt  tlio  door,  and  wliiiieil ;  rnuclianieally  liis  mh^ 
ter  rose,  liltctl  tlio  latch,  ami  again  exclaimcil  in 
passionate  tones  those  magic  words,  that  sent 
the  faithful  messenger  forth  into  the  dark  forest 
])ath.  Once  on  the  trail  he  never  left  it,  but 
with  an  instinct  incomprehensible  as  it  was 
))owerful,  he  continued  to  track  the  woods,  lin- 
gering long  on  spots  where  the  wanderers  had 
left  anv  siiins  of  their  sojourn;  he  had  for  some 
time  been  baflled  at  the  Beav'cr  ^Meadow,  and 
again  where  they  had  crossed  Cold  Creek,  but 
had  regained  the  scent  and  traced  them  to  the 
valley  of  the  "  Big  Stone,"  and  then  with  the 
sagacity  of  the  bloodhound  and  the  aft'ection 
of  the  terrier  he  had,  at  last,  discovered  the 
objects  of  his  unwearied,  though  often  baffled 
searcli. 

What  a  state  of  excitement  did  the  unex- 
pected arrival  of  old  Wolfe  create  I  ♦  How  man}'' 
questions  were  put  to  the  poor  beast,  as  he  lay 
with  his  head  pillowed  on  the  knees  of  his  loving 
mistress !  Catharine  knew  it  was  foolish,  but 
Bhe  could  not  help  talking  to  the  dumb  animal, 
as  if  he  had  been  conversant  with  her  own  lan- 
guage. Ah,  old  Wolfe,  if  your  homesick  nurse 
could  but  have  interpreted  those  expressive 
looks,  those  eloquent  waggings  of  your  bushy 
tail,  as  it  flapped  upon  the  grass,  or  waved  from 
side  to  side  ,  those  gentle  lickings  of  the  hand, 


THK    CANADIAN    ClU'SOKS. 


lis 


and  mute  sorrowi'ul  uhiiux'S,  :ls  iliougli  he  W(iul(l 
have  siiid,  "Dlmu*  mistress,  I  know  all  your  trou- 
bles. I  know  all  you  say,  but  I  eannot  answer 
you !"  There  is  sotnething  touehing  in  tho 
silent  sympathy  of  the  dog,  to  whieh  only  the 
liard-hearted  and  depraved  ean  be  quite  insen- 
sible. 1  remember  onee  hearinii,'  of  a  i'ekjn  who 
had  slunvn  the  greatest  obstinaey  and  eallous 
indifterenee  to  the  appeals  of  his  relations,  and 
the  clergyman  that  attended  him  in  prison, 
whose  heart  was  softened  bv  the  si^ht  of  a  little 
doii',  that  had  been  his  companion  in  his  davs  of 
comparative  innocence,  forcing  its  way  through 
the  crowd,  till  it  gained  the  foot  of  the  gallows, 
its  mute  look  of  anguish  and  alfection  unlocked 
the  fount  of  human  feeling,  and  the  condemned 
man  wept — perhaps  the  first  tears  he  had  shed 
since  childhood's  happy  days. 

The  night  closed  in  with  a  tempest  of  almost 
tropical  violence.  The  inky  darkness  of  the 
sky  was  relieved,  at  intervals,  by  sheets  of  lurid 
flame,  which  revealed,  by  its  intense  brightness, 
every  object  far  off  or  near.  The  distant  lake, 
just  seen  amid  the  screen  of  leaves  through  the 
gorge  of  the  valley,  gleamed  like  a  sea  of  molten 
sulphur  ;  the  deep,  narrow  defile,  shut  in  by  the 
Bteep  and  wooded  hills,  looked  deeper,  more 
wild  and  gloomy,  when  revealed  by  that  vivid 

glare  of  light. 
10* 


n 


lU 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CIMSOKS. 


TluM'n  was  no  stir  aiiinnq  tho  trees,  the  licavy 
ruuiidcd  masses  of  fulia.L^o  rcmaiiuMl  uninovcHl ; 
the  very  aspen,  that  tivrmiUjiis  sensitive  tree, 
Kcai'ecly  stirred  ;  it  seeined  as  if  the  very  pulses 
of  nature  were  at  rest,  'i'hc  soK^nin  niurniur 
that  preeeded  the  thundci'-pfal  mi^ht  iiave  been 
likened  to  the  nioaninLi;  oi'  the  dviir^.  The 
children  felt  the  loneliness  of  the  s[)(»t.  Seated 
at  the  entranee  of  their  sylvan  hut,  in  front  of 
which  their  evening  lire  burned  brightly,  they 
looked  out  upon  the  storin  in  siU-nce  and  in 
awe.  Screened  by  the  sheltering  shrubs  that 
grew  near  them,  they  felt  comparatively  safe 
from  the  dangers  of  the  storm,  which  now  burst 
in  terrific  violence  above  the  vallev.  Cloud  an- 
Bwered  to  cloud,  and  the  echoes  of  the  hills  pro- 
longed the  sound,  while  shattered  trunks  and 
brittle  branches  filled  the  air,  and  shrieked  and 
groaned  in  that  wild  war  of  elements. 

Between  the  pauses  of  the  tempest  the  long 
howl  of  the  wolves,  from  their  covert  in  some 
distant  cedar  swamp  at  the  edge  of  the  lake, 
might  be  heard  from  time  to  time, — a  sound 
that  always  thrilled  their  hearts  with  fear.  To 
the  mighty  thunder-peal  that  burst  above  their 
heads  they  listened  with  awe  and  wonder.  It 
seemed,  indeed,  to  them  as  if  it  were  the  voice 
of  Him  who  "  sendeth  out  his  voice,  yea,  and 
that  a  mighty  voice."     And  they  bowed  and 


TlIK    CANAI'lAN    iltr.SOKS. 


115 


1  heavy 
novcd  ; 
•0  tn^e, 
r  pulsca 
nunnur 
vc  boL'ii 
.      The 
Scaled 
front  of 
ly,  tliey 
1  and  in 
abs  that 
'cly  safe 
pw  burst 
oud  an- 
il Is  pro- 
nks  and 
vcd  and 


1\.V 


be  long 
lin  some 
lie  hike, 
sound 
lar.     To 
Ive  their 
ller.     It 
le  voice 
'ca,  and 
led  and 


adored  hi.s  majesty;  but  they  shrank  witii  cur- 
dled blood  fro!n  tluj  ciy  (jf  ilia  Jcion  ii'olj. 

vVnd  now  the  sttn'in  was  at  its  climax,  and 
llie  hail  aiid  rain  came  down  in  a  whitcninLi 
liooil  ui)o!i  that  ocean  of  (brest  lcav«'M  ;  iIk*  old 
grey  branches  were  lifted  up  and  dcnvn,  and  \h\) 
stout  trunks  n.'n*,  f»>r  ihey  would  not  bcnv  down 
before  the  furv  of  the  whiiiwind,  and  were  scat- 
tered  all  abroad  like  ehalVbefoi'e  the  wind. 

The  eliihlreii  thought  not  of  dan^^er  for  them- 
selves, but  they  ieaivd  f  )r  the  safl'ty  of  their 
fathers,  whom  thev  believed  to  be  not  far  olV 
from  them.  And  often  'mid  the  raging  of  tho 
elements  they  fancied  they  could  distinguish 
familiar  voices  calling  u[)on  their  names.  "  If 
our  father  had  not  been  near,  Wolfe  would  not 
have  come  hither." 

"  Ah,  if  our  father  should  have  perished  in 
this  fearful  storm,"  said  Catharine,  weeping, 
"or  have  been  starved  to  deatn  wdiile  seekini' 
for  usl"  and   Catharine  covered  her  face  and 

t 

we})t  more  bitterly. 

But  Louis  would  not  listen  to  such  melan- 
cholv  forebodinn's.  Their  fathers  were  both 
brave,  liardy  men,  Jiccustomed  to  every  sort  of 
danger  and  privation;  they  were  able  to  take 
cure  of  themselves.  Ves,  he  was  sure  they  were 
not  far  olf;  it  was  this  unlucky  storm  coming 
on  tlnit  had  prevented  them  from  meeting. 


ca 


» »^ 


3 


116 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CHL'SOES. 


"  To-nif)ri'o\v,  iiui  clicie,  will  bo  a  glorious 
day  after  the  storm  ;  it  will  be  a  joyful  one  too, 
we  Khali  go  out  with  Wolfe,  and  ho  will  rind 
his  masteT,  and  then — oh,  yes  !  I  dare  say  my 
dear  father  will  be  with  yours.  They  will  have 
taken  good  heed  to  the  traek,  and  we  shall  soon 
see  our  dear  mothers  and  ehere  petite  Louise." 

The  storm  lasted  till  past  midnight,  when  it 
gradually  subsided,  and  the  poor  wanderers 
were  glad  to  see  the  murky  elouds  roll  off,  and 
the  stars  peep  forth  among  their  broken  masses; 
but  they  were  redueed  to  a  pitiful  state,  the 
hurrieane  having  beaten  down  their  httle  hut, 
and  their  garments  were  drenehed  with  rain. 
However,  the  boys  made  a  good  fire  with  some 
bark  and  boughs  they  had  in  store;  there  were 
a  few  sparks  in  their  baek  log  unextinguished, 
and  this  they  gladly  fanned  up  into  a  blaze, 
with  which  they  dried  their  wet  clothes,  and 
warmed  themselves.  The  air  was  now  cool 
ahnost  to  chilliness,  and  for  some  days  the 
weather  remained  unsettled,  and  the  sky  over- 
cast with  clouds,  while  the  lake  presented  a 
leaden  hue,  crested  with  white  mimic  waves. 

They  soon  set  to  work  to  make  another  hut, 
and  found,  close  to  the  head  of  the  ravine,  a 
great  pine  uprooted,  alFording  theni  large  pieces 
of  bark,  which  proved  very  serviceable  in 
thatching  tk)  sides  of  the  hut.     The  boys  em 


TIIK    CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


117 


ployed  tlicinselves  in  this  work,  while  Catliarine 
cooked  the  lish  thov  had  cauLi'ht  the  nii2:ht 
before,  witli  ii  shai'e  oi'  which  ohl  Wolfe  seemed 
to  be  mightily  well  pleased.  After  they  had 
breakfasted,  tliey  all  went  up  towards  the  high 
table-land  al)ov(;  the  ravine,  with  Wolle,  to  look 
routid  in  h(jpe  of  getting  sight  of  their  friends 
from  Cold  S[)riiigs,  but  thi^iigh  they  kept  an 
anxious  l(X)k-()Ut  in  evcrv  direction,  thev  re- 
turned,  towards  evening,  tired  and  h()])eless. 
Hector  had  killed  a  red  scpiirrel,  and  a  par- 
tridge  which    Wolfe    "treed," — that   is,    stood 

O  7  7 

barking:  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  in  which  it  had 
perched, — and  the  supply  of  meat  was  a  season 
able  change.  They  also  noticed,  and  marked 
with  the  axe,  several  trees  where  there  were 
bees,  intending  to  come  in  the  cold  weather, 
and  cut  them  down.  Louis's  father  was  a  2:reat 
and  successful  bee-hunter;  and  Louis  rather 
prided  himself  on  having  learned  something  of 
his  father's  skill  in  that  line.  Here,  where 
flowers  were  so  abundant  and  water  plentiful, 
the  wild  bees  seemed  to  be  abundant  also; 
besides,  the  open  space  between  the  trees,  ad« 
mitting  the  wann  sunbeam  freely,  was  favour 
able  both  for  the  bees  and  the  flowers  on  which 
they  fed,  and  Louis  talked  joyfully  of  the  fine 
Btores  of  honey  they  sliouid  collect  in  the  fall. 
He  had  taught  little  Fanchon,  a  small  French 


if 


118 


Tin:    CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


spaniel  of  liis  futlior's,  to  fiiul  out  tho  trecg 
wliero  the  bees  hived,  and  also  the  nests  of  the 
ground-bees,  and  she  would  bark  at  the  foot 
cf  the  tree,  or  seratch  with  her  feet  on  the 
ground,  as  the  other  dogs  barked  at  the  squirrels 
or  the  woodchucks;  but  Fanchon  wjis  far  away, 
and  Wolfe  was  old,  and  would  learn  no  new 
trieks,  so  Louis  knew  he  had  nothinii;  but  his 
own  oVjservation  and  the  axe  to  depend  upon 
for  proeuring  honey. 

The  boj^s  had  been  -unsuccessful  for  some 
da^^s  past  in  fishing ;  neither  perch  nor  sunfish, 
pink  roach  nor  mud-pouts,*  were  to  be  caught. 
However,  they  found  water-mussels  by  groping 
in  the  sand,  and  crayfish  among  the  gravel  at 
the  edge  of  the  water  only ;  the  last  pinched 
their  fingers  very  spitefully.  The  mussels  were 
not  very  palatable,  for  want  of  salt ;  but  hungry 
folks  must  not  be  dainty,  and  Louis  declared 
them  very  good  wlien  well  roasted,  covered  up 
with  hot  embers.  "  The  fishhawks,"  said  he, 
**  set  us  a  good  example,  for  they  eat  them,  and 
so  do  the  eaofles  and  herons.  I  watched  one  the 
other  day  with  a  mussel  in  his  bill;  he  flew  to 
a  high  tree,  let  his  prey  fall,  and  immediately 
darted  down  to  secure  it;  but  I  drove  him  off, 
and,  to  my  great  amusement,  perceived  the  wisf? 

*  All  these  fish  are  iudigenous    to  th.c    fresh   waters    of 
Canada. 

V 


THE    CAXADIAX    C HUSOES. 


119 


fellow  liaJ  just  let  it  fall  on  a  stone,  wliicli  liad 
tracked  tlic  shell  for  him  just  in  the  right  place. 
I  often  see  shells  lying  at  the  foot  of  trees,  far 
np  the  hills,  where  these  birds  must  have  left 
them.  There  is  one  large  thick-shelled  mussel, 
that  I  have  found  several  times  with  a  round 
hole  drilled  tlirough  the  shell,  just  as  if  it  had 
been  done  with  a  small  auirer,  doubtless  the  work 
of  some  bird  witli  a  strong  beak." 

"  Do  you   remember,"  said   Catharine,   "  the 
fine  pink  mussel-shell  that   Ilec  picked  up  ir 
the  little  corn-field  last  year?  it  had  a  hole  i. 
one  of  the  shells  too,'^  and  when  my  uncle  sav 
it,  he  said  it  must  have  been  dropped  by  some 
large  bird,  a  fishhawk  possibly,  or  a  heron,  and 
brouizlit  from  the  ^eat  lake,  as  it  had  been  taken 
out  of  some  deep  water,  the  mussels  in  our  creeka 
being  quite  thin-shelled  and  white." 

"  Do  you  remember  wdiat  a  quantit}^  of  large 
fish  bones  we  found  in  the  eagle's  nest  on  the 
top  of  our  hill,  Louis?"  said  Hector. 

"I  do  ;  those  fish  must  have  been  larger  than 
our  perch  and  sunfish  ;  they  wer^  brought  from 
this  very  lake,  T  dare  say." 

*  Tills  incrcnlons  moilo  of  cradvinof  the  shells  of  mussels  is 
comnion  to  many  binls.  The  erow  {Corvus  corone)  has  bc-eu 
lone;  known  by  Amr;riean  naturuHsts  to  break  the  thick  sheila 
of  the  river  mussels,  by  letting  them  fall  from  a  height  on  to 
rock.s  and  stonoi^i. 


■1 


f   r.^ 


■!».» 


> 


120 


THE    CAXADIAX    CRUSOES. 


"  If  we  had  a  good  canoe  now,  or  a  boat,  and 
a  strong  hook  and  line,  we  might  become  great 
fishermen." 

"Louis,"  said  Catharine,  "is  always  thinking 
about  canoes,  and  boats,  and  skiffs;  lie  ought  to 
have  been  a  sailor." 

Louis  was  confident  that  if  they  had  a  canoe 
he  could  soon  learn  to  manage  her;  he  was"  an 
excellent  sailor  already  in  theory.  Louis  never 
saw  difficulties ;  he  was  always  hopeful,  and  had 
a  very  good  opinion  of  his  own  cleverness;  he 
was  quicker  in  most  things,  his  ideas  flowed 
faster  than  Hector's,  but  Hector  was  more  pru- 
dent, and  possessed  one  valuable  quality — steady 
perseverance;  he  was  slow  in  adopting  an  opin- 
ion, but  when  once  convinced,  he  pushed  on 
steadily  till  he  mastered  the  subject  or  overcame 
the  obstacle. 

"Catharine,"  said  Louis,  one  day,  "the 
huckleberries  are  now  very  plentiful,  and  I  think 
it  would  be  a  wise  thing  to  gather  a  good  store 
of  them,  and  dry  them  for  the  winter.  See,  ma 
ch^re,  wherever  we  turn  our  eyes,  or  place  our 
feet,  they  are  to  be  found;  the  hill  sides  are 
purple  with  them.  We  may,  for  aught  we  know, 
be  obliged  to  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives  here ;  it 
will  be  well  to  prepare  for  the  winter  when  no 
berries  are  to  be  found." 

"  It  will  be  well,  mon  ami,  but  we  must  not 


THE    CANADIAN'   CRUSOES. 


121 


dry  them  in  the  sun ;  for  let  me  tell  yon,  llr, 
Louis,  that  they  will  be  quite  tasteless— mere 
dry  husks." 

''Why  so,  ma  belle?" 

"  I  do  not  know  the  reason,  but  I  only  know 
the  fact,  for  when  our  mothers  dried  theeurranta 
and  raspberries  in  the  sun,  such  was  the  case, 
but  when  they  dried  them  on  the  oven  floor,  or 
on  the  hearth,  they  were  quite  nice." 

''  Well,  Cath.,  I  think  I  know  of  a  flat,  thin 
stone  that  will  make  a  good  hearthstone,  and 
we  can  get  sheets  of  birch  bark  and  sew  into 
flat  bags,  to  keep  the  dried  fruit  in." 

They  now  turned  all  their  attention  to  drying 
huckleberries  (or  whortleberries.)*  Catharine 
and  Louis  (who  fancied  nothing  could  be  con- 
trived without  his  help)  attended  to  the  pre- 
paring and  making  of  the  bags  of  birch  bark ; 
but  Hector  was  soon  tired  of  girl's  work,  as  he 
termed  it,  and,  after  gathering  some  berries, 
would  wander  away  over  the  hills  in  search  of 
game,  and  to  explore  the  neighbouring  hills  and 
valleys,  and  sometimes  it  was  sunset  before  he 

*  From  the  abundance  of  this  fruit,  the  Indians  have  given 
the  name  of  Whortleberry  Phiin  to  the  hmds  on  the  south  sliore. 
During  tlie  month  of  July  and  the  early  part  of  August,  largo 
parties  come  to  the  Kice  Lake  Plains  to  gather  huckleberries, 
which  they  preserve  by  drying,  for  winter  use.  These  berries 
make  a  delicious  tar.  or  pudding,  mixed  with  bilberries  juid 
red-currants,  requiring  little  sugar, 
11 


C9 


M 


I 

r 


122 


THE    CANADIAN    CKUSOKS. 


made  his  appearance.  Hector  had  made  on 
excellent  strong  bow,  Hke  the  Indian  bow,  out 
of  a  tough  piece  of  hickory  wood,  which  ho 
found  in  one  of  his  rambles,  and  ho  made  an-owa 
with  wood  that  he  seasoned  in  the  smoke, 
sharpening  the  heads  with  great  care  with  hi>: 
knifcj  and  hardening  them  by  exposure  to  strong 
heat,  at  a  certain  distance  from  the  fire.  The 
entrails  of  the  woodchucks,  stretched,  and  scraped 
and  dried,  and  rendered  pliable  by  rubbing  and 
drawino:  through  the  hands,  answered  for  a  bow- 
string ;  but  afterwards,  when  they  got  the  sinewa 
and  hide  of  the  deer,  they  used  them,  properly 
dressed  for  the  purpose. 

Hector  also  made  a  cro^-bow,  which  he  used 
vr'ith.  great  effect,  being  a  true  and  steady 
marksman.  Louis  and  he  would  often  amuse 
themselves  with  shooting  at  a  mark,  which  they 
would  chip  on  the  bark  of  a  tree ;  even  Catha- 
rine was  a  tolerable  archeress  with  the  long 
bow,  and  the  hut  was  now  seldom  without  game, 
of  one  kind  or  other.  Hector  seldom  returned 
from  his  rambles  without  partridges,  quails,  or 
young  pigeons,  which  are  plentiful  at  this  seasoij 
of  the  year ;  many  of  the  old  ones  that  pasa 
over  in  their  migratory  flight  in  the  spring,  stay 
tc  breed,  «^r  return  thither  for  acorns  and 
berries  that  are  to  be  found  in  great  abundance. 
Squirrels,  too,  are  very  plentiful  at  this  season. 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


123 


Hector  and  Louis  rcmaikcd  that  the  red  nnd 
black  squirrels  never  were  to  be  found  very 
near  each  otlier.  It  is  a  common  belief,  tha't 
the  red  squirrels  make  common  cause  with  the 
grey  and  beat  tlie  larg'cr  enemy  oil*  the  ground. 
The  black  squirrel,  for  a  succession  of  years, 
was  very  rarely  to  be  met  with  on  the  plains, 
while  there  were  plenty  of  the  red  and  grey  in 
the  "oak  openings."''^'  Deer,  at  the  time  our 
young  Crusoes  were  living  on  the  llice  I^nko 
Plains,  were  plentiful,  and,  of  course,  so  were 
those  beasts  that  prey  upon  them, — wolves, 
bears,  and  wolverines,  besides  the  Canadian 
lynx,  or  catamount,  as  it  is  here  commonly 
called,  a  species  of  wild-cat  or  panther.  These 
wild  animals  are  now  no  longer  to  be  seen ;  it 
is  a  rare  thing  to  hear  of  bears  or  wolves,  and 
the  wolverine  and  lynx  are  known  only  as 
matters  of  history  in  this  part  of  the  countrj^; 
these  animals  disappear  as  civilization  advances, 
while  some  others  increase  and  follow  man, 
especially  many  species  of  birds,  which  seem  to 
pick  up  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  rich  man's 
board,  and  multiply  about  his  dwelling;  some 
adopt  new  habits  and  modes  of  building  and 


*  Within  the  hist  three  years,  hov/ever,  the  Wack  squirrela 
have  been  very  numerous,  and  the  red  are  less  frequently  to  be 
Been.  Tlio  flesh  of  the  black  squirrel  is  tendet,  whit'^,  and  dolir 
oate,  like  that  of  a  young  rabbit. 


ii 

i      ] 

\      \ 


124 


THE   CAXADTAX  CRUSOES. 


fecdinor,   acconlinur  to   tlio   iiltcratioii    and   ini« 
proveinent  in  their  circumstances. 

While  our  young  people  seldom  wanted  for 
moat,  they  felt  the  privation  of  the  bi'cad  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed  very  sensibly. 
One  (hiy,  while  Hector  and  Louis  were  busily 
engaged  with  their  assistant,  AYolfe,  in  unearth- 
ing a  woodchuek,  that  liad  taken  refuge  in  his 
burrow,  on  one  of  the  gravelly  hills  above  the 
hike,  Catharine  amused  herself  by  looking  for 
flowers.  She  had  filled  her  lap  with  ripe  May- 
apples,*  but  iinding  them  cumbersome  in  climb- 
ing the  steep  wooded  hills,  she  deposited  them 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree  near  the  boys,  and  pursued 
her  search  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  she  per- 
ceived some  pretty  grassy-looking  plants,  with 
heads  of  bright  lilac  flowers,  and  on  plucking 
some  pulled  up  the   root  also.     The  root  was 


*  Pod<yj>lujUurrh  peltatvm, — May-apple,  or  MancIralvC.  Tlio 
fruit  of  tlie  May-apiilc,  iji  rich,  moist  soil,  will  attain  to  tho  sizo 
of  the  ma.Lrnuju  boniim,  or  etrg-plnm  which  it  resembles  in 
colour  and  shape.  It  makes  a  ilelicious  preserve,  if  seasoned 
with  cloves  or  {.dinger ;  when  eaten  uncooked,  the  outer  rind, 
which  is  thick  and  fleshy,  and  has  a  rank  taste,  should  be 
thrown  aside;  the  fine  acid  pulp  in  which  the  seeds  are  im- 
bedded alone  should  be  eaten.  The  root  of  the  Podophyllum  is 
1193. 1  as  a  cathartic  by  the  Indians.  The  root  ol' this  plant  is 
retimilated,  and  when  a  large  body  of  them  are  unccvercd, 
they  present  a  singular  appearance,  interlacing  each  other  in 
large  meshes,  like  an  extensive  network;  these  roots  are  white, 
Bs  thick  as  a  man's  little  finger,  and  fragrant,  and  spread  hori- 
zontally along  the  surface.    The  blossom  is  like  asmnJl  white  ro»^ 


TIIK    CANADIAN'    CllL'SOKS. 


125 


about  the  si/.ij  find  shape;  uC  ii  large  crocus,  and, 
on  biting  it,  she  louiid  it  I'ar  from  disagreeable, 
Bweet,  and  KJiglitly  astringent;  it  seemed  to  be 
a  favourite  root  with  the  wi^odchucks,  for  she 
noticed  that  it  i;rew  about  their  bui'rows  on 
dry,  gravelly  soil,  and  many  of  the  stems  were 
bitten,  and  the  roots  eaten — a  wai'rant  in  full  of 
whoJesomcness.  Therefore,  cai'rving  home  a 
parcel  of  the  largest  of  the  roots,  she  roasted 
them  in  the  embers,  {ind  they  })roved  almost  as 
good  as  chestnuts,  and  more  satisfying  than  the 
acorns  of  the  white  oak,  which  they  had  often 
roasted  in  the  fire,  when  thc}^  were  out  working 
on  the  fallow,  at  the  log  heaps.  Hector  and 
Louis  ate  heartily  of  the  roots,  and  commended 
Catharine  for  the  discovery.  Not  many  days 
afterwards,  Louis  accidentally  found  a  much 
larircr  and  more  valuable  root,  near  the  lake 
shore.  He  saw  a  fine  climbing  shrub,  with 
close  bunches  of  dark  reddish-purple  pea-shaped 
flowers,  wdiich  scented  the  air  with  a  delicious 
perfume.  The  plant  climbed  to  a  great  height 
over  the  young  trees,  with  a  profusion  of  dark 
green  leaves  and  tendrils.  Pleased  with  the 
bowery  appearance  of  the  plant,  he  ti'ied  to  pul' 
one  up,  that  he  might  show  it  to  his  cousin, 
when  the  root  dis})]ayed  a  nuniber  of  large 
tubers,  as  big  as  good-sized  [potatoes,  regular 
oval-sha[)ed  ;  the  inside  was  quite  white,  tasting 
11* 


3 


9kM 


( 


»■ 


*'m 


12(3 


Till!:   CANADIAN    CUUSOKS. 


BoinowliJit  like  a  potato,  (,>nly  plrasaiiter,  wlicn 
in  it.s  raw  state,  than  an  uncooked  potato.     liouis 


gatlici'L'd  his  pockets  full,  and  hastened  lu)ine 
with  his  j)i'i/i^,  and,  on  beini,'  roast(Ml,  these  new 
roots  were  ducided  to  be  little  interior  to  ])ota- 
toes;  at  all  ev(jiits,  they  were  a  valuable  addition 
to  their  slender  stores,  and  they  procured  as 
many  as  they  could  lind,  carefully  storing  them 
in  a  hole,  which  they  dug  for  that  pur[)ose  in  a 
corner  of  their  hut."  Hector  suggested  that 
these  roots  wonld  be  far  better  late  in  the  fall, 
or  early  in  the  spring,  than  during  the  time 
that  the  plant  was  in  bloom,  for  he  knew  fi'om 
observation  and  experience  that  at  the  flowering 
season  the  greater  part  of  the  nourishment 
derived  from  the  soil  goes  to  perfect  the  flower 
and  t'i?  seeds.  Upon  scra[)ing  the  cut  tuber, 
there  was  a  white  floury  powder  produced, 
resembling  the.  starchy  substance  of  the  po- 
tato. 

"  This  flour,"  said  Catharine,  "  would  make 
good  porridge  with  milk." 

"  Excellent,  no  doubt,  mv  wise  little  cook 
and  housekeeper,"  said  Louis,  laughing ;   "  but 


rr 

111 

la 


*  riiis  ])I;iiit  appears  to  mc  to  1)0  a  species  of  tlio  Psoralea 
isculentit^  or  Indian  bread-root,  wiiioli  it  resembles  in  description, 
exoeptini,'  that  tlie  root  of  tln^  alx)vo  is  tiilieroii.*,  oval,  and  con- 
not-'tcd  by  loui,'  tilanicnts.  The  largest  tubers  are  farthest  from 
the  siein  of  I  he  plant. 


THE    CANADIA.N    ClSl        .:S. 


127 


ma  bollo  cousinu,  wlioro  is  tlio    /ilk,  nuJ  vvliere 
is  the  |K)rriil,^tj-})i>t  to  conic  IVoin'r"' 

".Indccil,"  said  Catharine,  "I  fear,  Louis,  we 
must  wait  hjng  lor  both." 

One  iine  dav,  Louis  returned  liomc  from  the 
lake  sliore  in  ureat  haste,  Ibr  tlie  bows  and 
arrows,  with  the  interesting  news  that  a  herd  of 
live  de(3r  were  in  the  watei',  and  making  for 
Long  Lshuid. 

"But,  Louis,  they  will  be  gone  out  of  sight 
and  beyond  tlie  reach  of  the  arrows,"  said 
Catharine,  as  she  handed  him  down  the  bows 
and  a  sheaf  of  arrows,  whieli  she  quickly  slung 
round  his  shoulders  by  the  belt  of  skin,  which 
the  3'oung  hunter  had  made  for  himself. 

"  No  fear,  ma  chere ;  they  will  stop  to  feed 
on  the  beds  of  rice  and  lilies.  We  must  have 
Wolfe.  Here,  Wolfe,  Wolfe,  Wolfe,— here, 
boy,  here!" 

Catharine  caught  a  portion  of  the  excitement 
that  danced  in  the  bright  eyes  of  her  cousin, 
and  declaring  that  she  too  would  go  and  witness 
the  hunt,  ran  down  the  ravine  by  his  side,  wdiile 
Wolfe,  who  evidently  understood  that  they  had 
some  sport  in  view,  trotted  along  by  his  mis- 
tress, wagging  his  great  bushy  tail,  and  looking 
in  higli  good  humour. 

Hector  was  im):)atiently  waiting  the  arrival  o' 
the  bows  and  Wolfe.     The  herd  of  deer,  con 


C5 


t       ! 


128 


TIIK    (ANA  I  MAN    CKISOKS. 


Bistiii'j;  of .'(  iK)bK;  l)iick,  two  riril-!j:r()\vii  fiuiinlcs, 
siiid  two  vouii^  half-grown  males,  were  quiotly 
feiMlin.L^  uiiioii^  the  beds  of  ricu  (ind  rushes,  not 
more  iluni  liftecii  or  twenty  yards  I'l  jni  tlio 
»sliore,  apparently  (luite  unconcerned  at  the  pres- 
ence of  Hector,  who  stood  on  a  fallen  trunk 
eagerly  eyeing  their  motions  ;  but  the  hurried 
steps  of  Louis  and  Cathariiu.*,  witli  the  deep 
soiK^rous  baying  of  Wolfe,  soon  roused  the  timid 
creatures  to  a  sense  of  ihin<'er,  and  the  staiz-, 
raising  his  head  and  making,  as  the  children 
thought,  a  signal  for  I'etreat,  now  struck  boldly 
out  for  the  nearest  point  of  Long  Ishmd. 

"  We  shall  lose  them,"  cried  Louis,  despair- 
ingly, eyeing  the  long,  bright  track  that  cut 
the  silvery  waters,  as  the  deer  swam  gallantly 
out. 

"  Hist,  hist,  Louis,"  said  Hector,  "  all  depends 
upon  Wolfe..  Turn  them,  Wolfe;  hey,  hey, 
seek  them,  boy !" 

Wolfe  dashed  bravely  into  the  lake. 

"  Head  them  !  head  them !"  shouted  Hector. 

Wolfe  knew  what  was  meant;  with  the 
sagacity  of  a  long-trained  hunter,  he  made  a 
desperate  ellbrt  to  gain  the  advantage  by  a  cir- 
cuitous route.  Twice  the  stag  turned  irresolute, 
as  if  to  face  his  foe,  and  Wolfe,  taki^ig  the  time, 
swam  ahead,  and  then  the  race  began.  As  soon 
as  the  bovs  saw  the  herd  had  turned,  and  that 


'MIK   CANADIAN    ClilSoKS. 


129 


Wolfe  WMs  between  tli<Mii  jiiid  the  ishtud,  thcj; 
S(^j);init('(|,  Louis  iiiukiii,L5  good  his  ambush  to 
the  right  among  the  eedars,  and  Ilcetor  at  tlio 
Bpring  to  the  west,  while  Catharine  was  station- 
ed at  the  solitary  pine-tree,  at  the  point  v  hieli 
commanded  the  entranee  of  the  ravine. 

"Now,  Cathy," sail]  her  brother,  "  wl  <' n  you 
see  the  hei'd  making  Ibr  the  ravine,  ?l»oiit  and 
claj)  yoiu"  hands,  and  they  will  turn  either  to 
the  right  oi*  to  the  left.  Do  not  let  .hem  land, 
or  we  shidl  hxse  them.  We  must  //.'at to  Woll'c 
for  their  not  eseaping  to  the  isla/.f'..  Wolfe  in 
well  trained — he  knows  what  he  I'i  fjjout." 

Catharine  proved  a  dutiful  ^Ay  ;  she  (bd  a3 
she  was  bid.  She  waited  till  thodeor  were  witli- 
in  a  few  yards  of  the  shore^  then  she  shouted 
and  clapped  lier  hands.  Kr;/hteMed  at  the  noi^o 
and  clamour,  the  terriik'i  creatures  coasted 
along  for  some  way,  till  v'/ithln  a  little  distance 
of  the  thicket  where  IJ^-^tor  lay  concealed,  the 
very  spot  from  which  they  had  emerged  ^»'hen 
they  first  took  to  the  water :  to  this  place  they 
boldly  steered.  Lo'iis,  '^ho  had  watched  tne  di- 
rection the  herd  had  taken,  with  breathless 
interest,  now  noiaoleoj'y  hurried  to  Hector's  as- 
sistance, taking  an  ?.dvantageous  post  for  aim,  in 
case  Hector's  arrov/  missed,  or  onlj'  slightly 
vvounded  one  of  the  deer. 

Hector,  crouvjhed  beneath  th.    trees,  waited 


pi"    J 

t 

(f        INK 


130 


THE    CAXADJAN    CIIL'SOES. 


m 


cautiously  till  one  of  the  does  was  within  reach 
of  his  arrow,  and  so  good  and  true  was  his  aim, 
that  it  hit  the  animal  in  the  throat  a  little  above 
the  chest.  The  stag  now  turned  again,  but 
Vfolfc  was  behind,  and  pressed  him  forward, 
and  again  the  noble  animal  strained  every  nerve 
for  the  shore.  Louis  now  shot  his  arrow,  but  it 
swerved  from  the  mark  ;  he  was  too  eager ;  it 
glanced  harmlessly  along  the  water ;  but  the 
cool,  unimpassioned  hand  of  Hector  sent  an- 
other arrow  between  the  eyes  of  the  doe,  stun- 
ning her  with  its  force,  and  then,  another  from 
Louis  laid  her  on  her  side,  dying,  and  staining 
the  water  with  her  blood. 

The  herd,  abandoning  their  dying  companion, 
dashed  frantically  to  the  shore,  and  the  young 
hunters,  elated  by  their  sUf^cess,  suffered  them 
to  make  good  their  landing  without  further 
molestation.  Wolfe,  at  a  signal  from  his  mas- 
ter, ran  in  the  quarry,  and  Louis  declared  ex- 
ultingly,  that  as  his  last  arrow  had  given  the 
coup  de  grace^  he  was  entitled  to  the  honour  of 
cutting  the  throat  of  the  doe  ;  but  this  the  stern 
Highlander  protested  against,  and  Louis,  with 
a  careless  laugh,  yielded  the  point,  contenting 
himself  with  saying,  "  Ah,  well,  I  will  get  the 
first  steak  of  the  venison  when  it  is  roasted, 
and  that  is  far  more  to  my  taste."  Moreover, 
he  privately  recounted  to  Catharine  the  import- 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


x3l 


n  reach 
lis  aim, 
3  above 
JTi,  but 
orward, 
y  nerve 
V,  but  it 
ager;  it 
but  the 
^ent  an- 
)e,  stun- 
ler  from 
staining 

ipanion, 
vouncj 
d  them 
further 
lis  mas- 
red  ex- 
ven  the 
nour  of 
lie  stern 
lis,  with 
itenting 
jget  the 
"oasted, 
[reover, 
import- 


ant share  he  had  had  in  the  exploit,  giving  her, 
at  the  same  time,  full  credit  for  the  worthy  ser- 
vice she  had  performed,  in  withstanding  the 
landing  of  the  herd.  Wolfe,  too,  came  in  for  a 
large  share  of  the  honour  and  glory  of  the 
ciiase. 

The  boys  were  soon  hard  at  work,  skinning 
the  animal,  and  cutting  it  up.  This  was  the 
most  valuable  acquisition  they  had  yet  effected, 
for  many  uses  were  to  be  made  of  the  deer,  be- 
sides eating  the  flesh.  It  was  a  store  of  wealth 
in  their  eyes. 

During  the  many  years  that  their  fathers  had 
sojourned  in  the  country,  there  had  been  occa- 
sional intercourse  with  the  fur  traders  and  trap- 
pers, and,  sometimes,  with  friendly  disposed 
Indians,  who  had  called  at  the  lodges  of  their 
white  brothers  for  food  and  tobacco. 

From  all  these  men,  rude  as  they  were,  some 
practical  knowledge  had  been  acquired,  and 
their  visits,  though  few  and  far  between,  had 
left  good  fruit  behind  them  ;  something  to  think 
about  and  talk  about,  and  turn  to  future  ad- 


vantaofe. 


The  boys  had  learned  from  the  Indians  how 
precious  were  the  tough  sinews  of  the  deer  for 
sewing.  They  knew  how  to  p)repare  the  skins 
of  the  deer  for  mocassins,  which  they  could  cut 
out  and  make  as  neatly  as  the  squaws  them' 


at4m0Km 


-It: 


\-  f 


182 


THE   CANADIAN   CULSOES. 


BclvCvS.  They  could  ftisbion  arrow-heads,  and 
knew  how  best  to  season  the  wood  for  making 
both  the  long  and  cross-bow  ;  they  had  seen  the 
fish-hooks  these  people  manufactured  from  bone 
and  hard  wood  ;  they  knew  that  strips  of  fresli- 
cut  skins  would  make  bow-strings,  or  the  entrails 
of  animals  dried  and  rendered  pliable.  They 
had  watched  the  squaws  making  baskets  of  the 
inner  bark  of  the  oak,  elm,  and  basswood,  and 
mats  of  the  inner  bark  of  the  cedar,  with  many 
other  ingenious  works  that  they  now  found 
would  prove  useful  to  them,  after  a  little  prac- 
tice had  perfected  their  inexperienced  attempts. 
They  also  knew  how  to  dry  venison  as  the  In- 
dians and  trappers  prepare  it,  by  cutting  the 
thick  fleshy  portions  of  the  meat  into  strips, 
from  four  to  six  inches  in  breadth,  and  two  or 
more  in  thickness.  These  strips  they  strung 
upon  poles  supported  on  forked  sticks,  and  ex- 
posed them  to  the  drying  action  of  the  sun  and 
wind.  Fish  they  split  open,  and  removed  the 
back  and  head  bones,  and  smoked  them  slightl}^, 
or  dried  them  in  the  sun. 

Their  success  in  killing  the  doe  greatly  raised 
their  spirits ;  in  their  joy  they  embraced  eacli 
other,  and  bestowed  the  most  affectionate  ca- 
resses on  Wolfe  for  his  good  conduct. 

"But  for  this  dear,  wise  old  fellow,  we  shoukl 
have  had    no  vension   for  dinner  to-day,"  said 


TTTE    CAXAPTAX   CRUSHES. 


138 


Louis;  "  and  so,  Wolfe,  you  shall  have  a  choice 
piece  for  your  own  share." 

Every  pari:  of  the  deer  seemed  valuable  iu 
the  eyes  of  the  young  hunters;  the  skin  they 
carefully  stretched  out  upon  sticks  to  dry  grad- 
ually, and  the  entrails  they  also  preserved  for 
btnv-strings.  ''J'he  sinews  of  the  le^'s  and  back 
they  drew  out,  and  laid  carefully  aside  for  fu- 
ture use. 

'•'  We  shall  be  prlad  enougjh  of  these  strinsjs 
by  and  by,"  said  careful  Hector ;  "  for  the  sum- 
mer will  soon  be  at  an  end,  and  then  we  must 
turn  our  attention  to  making  ourselves  winter 
clothes  and  mocassins." 

"  Yes,  Hec,  and  a  good  warm  shanty ;  these 
huts  of  bark  and  boughs  will  not  do  when  once 
the  cold  weather  sets  in." 

''  A  shanty  would  soon  be  put  up,"  said  Hec- 
tor ;  "  for  even  Kate,  wee  bit  lassie  as  she  is,  could 
give  us  some  help  in  trimming  up  the  logs." 

"That  I  could,  indeed,"  replied  Catharine; 
"for  you  may  remember,  Hec,  that  the  last 
journey  my  father  made  to  the  Bay,*  with  the 
pack  of  furs,  that  you  and  I  called  a  Bee^f  to  put 

*  Bay  of  Qiiinte. 

t  A  Jiee  is  a  practical  instance  of  duty  to  a  neighbour.  We 
feiir  it  is  peculiar  to  Canada,  although  deserving  of  imitation 
in  all  Christian  colonies.  When  any  work  which  require* 
many  hands  is  in  ilie  course  of  performance,  as  the  building 
of  log-houses,  barns,  or  shanties,  all  the  neighbours  are  sum- 

12 


i 


t'- 


H 


134 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


wm 


up  a  shed  for  the  new  cow  that  he  was  to  drive 
back  with  him,  and  I  am  sure  Mathilde  and  I  did 
as  much  good  as  you  and  Louis.  You  know  you 
said  you  could  not  have  got  on  nearly  so  well 
without  our  help." 

"  Yes,  and  you  cried  because  you  got  a  fall 
oif  the  ohed  when  it  was  only  four  logs  high." 

"  It  was  not  for  the  fall  that  I  cried,"  said 
Catharine,  resentfully,  *'  but  because  cousin 
Louis  and  you  laughed  at  me,  and  said,  '  Cats, 
you  know,  have  nine  lives,  and  seldom  are  hurt, 
because  they  light  on  their  feet,'  and  I  thought 
it  was  very  cruel  to  laugh  at  me  when  I  was  in 
pain.  Besides,  you  called  me  *  puss,'  and  '  poor 
pussie'  all  the  rest  of  the  Bee^ 

"  I  am  sure,  ma  belle,  I  am  very  sorry  if  i 
was  rude  to  you,"  said  Louis,  trying  to  look 
penit/)nt  for  the  offence.  *'  For  my  part,  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  th-j  fall ;  I  only  know  that 
we  passed  a  very  merry  day.  Dear  aunt  made 
us  a  fine  johnny-cake  for  tea,  with  lots  of  maple 
molasses;  and  the  shed  was  a  capital  shed,  and 
the  cow  must  have  thought  us  fine  builders,  to 
have  made  such  a  comfortable  shelter  for  her, 
with  no  better  help." 

"  After  all,"  said  Hector,  thoughtfully,  "  chil- 


moned,  and  give  their  best  assistance  in  the  construction.  Of 
course  the  assisted  party  is  liable  to  be  called  upon  by  the 
community  in  turn,  to  repay  in  kind  the  help  he  has  r'»Qoived. 

\ 


to  drive 
md  I  did 
now  you 

J  so  well 

5ot  a  fall 
3  higli." 
ed,"  said 
e  cousin 
d,  '  Cats, 
are  Imrt, 
'.  thought 
I  was  in 
,nd  '  poor 

orry  if  i 
to  look 
t,  I  had 

low  that 

Qt  made 
f  maple 

led,  and 
ders,  to 
for  her, 


(( 


chil- 


Hion.     Of 
)n  by  tlie 
hcoived. 


THE   CANADIAN"   CRUSOES. 


185 


dren  can  do  a  great  many  things  if  tliey  only 
resolutely  set  to  work,  and  use  the  wits  and  the 
strength  that  God  has  given  them  to  work  with. 
A  few  weeks  ago,  and  we  should  have  thought 
it  utterly  impossible  to  have  supported  ourselves 
in  a  lonely  wilderness  like  this  by  our  own  ex- 
ertions in  fishinor  and  huntinu'." 

"  If  we  had  been  lost  in  the  forest,  we  must 
have  died  with  hunger,"  said  Catharine  ;  "  but 
let  us  be  thankful  to  the  good  God  who  led  us 
hither,  and  gave  us  health  and  strength  tc  help 
ourselves." 


»-., 


r^v»l 


Vi 


m 


13fi 


THE    CANAlilAN    CRUSOES 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"  Aye  fr  Jin  the  sultry  lient, 

We  to  our  cave  retreat, 
O'eroanopied  by  hiiire  roots,  intertwined, 
Of  wildest  texture,  l)luc'ken'd  o'er  witii  uj^e, 
Ronnd  them  their  mantle  .green  the  climbers  twin* 

Beneath  whose  mantle — pale, 

FannVl  by  the  breathing  gale, 
We  shield  us  from  the  fervid  mid-day  rage, 
Thither,  while  tlie  murmuring  tlirong 
Of  wild  bees  hum  their  drowsy  song." — Coleridob 


"  T  OUIS,  what  are  you  cutting  out  o:  that 
■^^  bit  of  wood?"    said  Cathafiae,  the  very 
next  day  after  the  first  ideas  of  the  shanty  had 
been  started. 

*' Hollowing  out  a  canoe." 

"  Out  of  that  piece  of  stick?"  said  Catharine, 
laughing.  "  How  many  passengers  is  it  to  ac- 
commodate, my  dear?" 

"  Don't  tease,  ma  belle.  I  am  only  making 
a  model.  My  canoe  will  be  made  out  of  a  big 
pine  log,  and  large  enough  to  hold  three." 

"  Is  it  to  be  like  the  big  sap-trough  in  the  su 
gar-bush  at  home  ?"     Louis  nodded  assent. 

"  I  long  to  go  over  to  the  island ;  I  see  lots  of 
of  ducks  popping  in  and  out  of  the  little  bays 
beneath  the  cedars  and  there  are  plenty  of  par- 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


137 


Iridges,  I  am  sure,  and  squirrels, — it  is  the  very 
place  for  them." 

"And  shall  we  have  a  sail  as  well  as  oars?" 

"  Yes ;  set  up  your  apron  for  a  sail." 

Catharine  cast  a  rueful  look  upon  the  tattered 
remnant  of  the  apron. 

"It  is  worth  nothing  now,"  she  said,  sighing; 
"  and  what  am  I  to  do  when  my  gown  is  worn 
out  ?  It  is  a  good  thing  it  is  so  strong ;  if  it  had 
been  cotton,  now,  it  would  have  been  torn  to 
bits  among  the  bushes." 

"  We  must  make  clothes  of  skins  as  soon  as 
we  get  enough,"  said  Hector ;  "  Louis,  I  think 
you  can  manufacture  a  bone  needle;  we  can 
pierce  the  holes  with  the  strong  thorns,  or  a  little 
round  bone  bodkin,  that  can  be  easily  made." 

"  The  first  rainy  day,  we  will  see  what  we 
can  do,"  replied  Louis;  "but  I  am  full  of  my 
canoe  just  now." 

"Indeed,  Louis,  I  believe  you  never  think  of 
any  thing  else;  but  even  if  we  had  a  canoe 
to-morrow,  Ido  not  think  that  either  you  or  I 
could  manage  one,"  said  cautious  Hector. 

"I  could  soon  learn,  as  others  have  done 
before  me.  I  wonder  who  first  taught  the 
Indians  to  make  canoes,  and  venture  out  on  the 
lakes  and  streams  1  Why  should  we  be  more 
Btupid  than  these  untaught  heathens  ?  I  have 
listened  so  often  to  my  father's  stories  and  ad- 
12* 


€D 


1'     1    I 


138 


Till':   CAXADLW    CIIL'SOES. 


venturer?  wlion  ho  was  out  lumbering  on  the  St, 
John's  river,  that  I  lun  as  familiar  with  the  idcu 
of  a  boat  as  if  I  had  been  born  in  one.  Only 
think  now,  ma  belle,"  he  said,  turninir  to  Catlia- 

7  7  7  i>j 

rine;  "just  think  of  the  fish — the  big  ones  we 
could  get  if  we  had  but  a  canoe  to  push  out  from 
the  shore  beyond  those  rush-beds." 

"  It  strikes  me,  Louis,  that  those  rush-beds,  as 
you  call  them,  must  be  the  Indian  rice  that  we 
have  seen  the  squaws  make  their  soup  of." 

"  Yes ;  and  you  remember  old  Jacob  used  to 
talk  of  a  fine  lake  that  he  called  Kice  Jjake, 
somewhere  to  the  northward  of  the  Cold  Springs, 
where  he  said  there  was  plenty  of  game  of  all 
kinds,  and  a  fine  open  place,  where  people  could 
see  through  the  openings  among  the  trees.  He 
said  it  was  a  great  hunting-place  for  the  Indians 
in  the  fall  of  the  year,  and  that  they  came  there 
to  gather  in  the  harvest  of  wild  rice." 

"I  hope  the  Indians  will  not  come  here  and 
find  us  out,"  said  Catharine,  shuddering ;  "  I 
think  I  should  be  more  frightened  at  the  Indians 
than  at  the  wolves.  Have  we  not  heard  fearful 
tales  of  their  cruelty  ?" 

*'  But  we  have  never  been  harmed  by  them ; 
they  have  always  been  civil  enough  when  they 
;jame  to  the  Springs." 

"  They  came,  you  know,  for  food,  or  shelter, 
or  something  that  they  wanted  from  us;  but 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


139 


it  may  be  (liflcrcnt  wlieii  they  find  us  alone  and 
unprotected,  encroaching  upon  their  hunting- 
grounds." 

"  'I'he  place  is  wide  enough  for  us  and  them ; 
we  will  try  and  make  them  our  friends." 

"Tlie  wolf  and  the  lamb  do  not  lie  down  in 
the  fold  together,"  observed  Hector.  *'  The 
Indian  is  treacherous.  The  wild  man  and  the 
civilized  man  do  not  live  well  together,  their 
habits  and  dispositions  are  so  contrary  the  one 
to  the  other.  We  are  open,  and  they  are  cunning, 
and  they  suspect  our  openness  to  be  only  a 
greater  degree  of  cunning  than  their  own — they 
do  not  understand  us.  They  are  taught  to  be 
revengeful,  and  we  are  taught  to  forgive  our 
enemies.  So  you  see  that  what  is  a  virtue  with 
the  savage,  is  a  crime  with  the  Christian.  If  the 
Indian  could  be  taught  the  word  of  God,  he 
might  be  kind  and  true,  and  gentle  as  well  as 
brave." 

It  was  with  conversations  like  this  that  our 
poor  wanderers  wiled  away  their  weariness. 
The  love  of  life,  and  the  exertions  necessary  for 
self-preservation,  occupied  so  large  a  portion  of 
their  thoughts  and  time,  that  they  had  hardly 
leisure  for  repining.  They  mutually  cheered  and 
animated  each  other  to  bear  up  against  the  sad 
(ate  that  had  thus  severed  them  from  ev?^ry  kin- 
dred tie,  and  shut  them  out  from  that  home  to 


lb 


m 


140 


THE   C A XA  J  M  N"   CVJ 'SO KS. 


wliich  their  yonni^  '\fiaruv  wore  bound  by  eveiy 
endearing  remembrance  Iroi.i  infancy  u[)wards. 

One  bri.^lit  September  morning,  our  young 
people  set  off  on  an  e\[)lor'nt5  expeditio/i,  leav- 
ing the  faithful  Wolfe  to  watoh  the  wig'-vam,  fi)r 
they  well  knew  he  was  too  b(/nest  to  toach  their 
store  of  dried  fish  and  venison  himself,  and  too 
trusty  and  fierce  to  suffer  wolf  or  wild  cat 
near  it. 

They  crossed  several  narrow,  deep  ravines, 
and  the  low  wooded  flat*  alonoj  the  lake  shore, 
to  the  eastward  of  Pine-tree  Point.  Finding  it 
difficult  to  force  their  way  through  the  thick 
underwood  that  always  impedes  the  progi'css  of 
the  traveller  on  the  low  shores  of  the  lake^  they 
followed  the  course  of  an  ascending  narrow 
ridge,  which  formed  a  sort  rf  natural  causevva} 
between  two  parallel  hollows,  the  top  of  this 
ridge  being,  in  many  place?'.,  not  wider  than  a 
cart  or  waggon  could  paiis  along.  The  sides 
were  most  gracefully  ad^ined  with  flowering 
shrubs,  wild  vines,  creepers  of  various  species, 
wild  cherries  of  several  kinds,  hawthorns,  bil- 
berry bushes,  high-bush  (;ranberrics,  silver  birch, 
poplars,  oaks,  and  pines ;  while  in  the  deep  ra- 

*  Now  the  fertile  farm  of  Joe  Plarris,  a  Yanker  settler,  whose 
plensant  meadows  and  fields  of  grain  form  a  pretty  feature  from 
the  lake.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  c\'aiir.gs  on  the  shore,  and 
speaks  well  for  the  persevering  ind  itry  of  the  settler  and  hia 
family. 


J  evpiy 
wiirds. 
young 
71,  k'.iv- 
'"am,  fi)r 
ch  their 
and  too 
4 Id   cat 

ravines, 
e  shore, 
iding  it 
le  thick 

[^I'CSS  of 

:e^  they 
narrow 
Lisevva} 
of  this 
than  a 
sides 
waring 
pecies, 
QS,  bil- 
birch, 
eep  ra- 

pr,  whose 

lure  from 

[ore,  unci 

and  hia 


THE    CANADIAN    Cia'SOKS. 


141 


vines  on  either  side  %\\'\\  ti'ecs  of  the  JJir;^ost 
growtli,  the  heads  of  wliieh  hiy  on  a  level  with 
their  path.  Wild  eliily  baidvs,  beset  with  huge 
boulders  of  red  and  ^'•I'ey  liraiute  and  water-worn 
Uniestone.  showed  that  it  had  once  formed  the 
boundary  of  the  hike,  though  now  it  was  almost 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  its  rear.  Springs  of  })ure 
water  were  in  abundtmee,  trieklinii"  (k>wn  the 
steep  rugged  sides  of  this  wooded  glen.  Tin? 
children  wandered  onwards,  deliuhted  with  the 
wild  pieturescpie  })ath  they  had  chosen,  some- 
times resting  on  a  huge  block  of  mosS-covered 
stone,  or  on  the  twisted  roots  of  some  ancient 
grey  old  oak  or  pine,  while  they  gazed  with  curi- 
osity and  interest  on  the  lonely  but  lovely  land- 
scape before  them.  Across  the  lake,  the  dark 
forest  shut  all  else  from  their  view,  rising  in 
gradual  far-off  slopes,  till  it  reached  the  utmost 
boundary  of  sight.  Much  the  children  mar- 
velled what  country  it  might  be  that  lay  in  the 
dim,  blue,  hazy  distance, — to  them,  indeed,  a 
terra  incognita — a  land  of  mystery ;  but  neither 
of  her  companions  laughed  when  Catharine 
gravely  suggested  the  probability  of  this  un- 
known shore  to  the  northward  being  her  fa- 
ther's beloved  Highlands.  Let  not  the  j^outh- 
ful  and  more  learned  reader  smile  at  the  igno- 
rance oi'  the  Canadian  girl ;  she  knew  nothing  of 
maps,  and  globes,  and  hemis[)her  ;s, — her  only 


n 

ii 


112 


TIIK   CANADIAN    CllL'SoKS. 


bookofstudy  had  bcvn  tlu3  Holy  S(.'ripturo.s,  her 
only  t(\'i(!lK'r  Ji  poor  Highland  soldier. 

Followint^  the  elev»itod  <'round  above  this 
deej)  valley,  the  travellers  at  last  halted  on  the 
extreme  edge  of  a  high  and  preeipitous  mound, 
that  formed  an  abrupt  termination  to  the  deep 
glen,  ^rhey  found  water  not  far  from  this  spot 
lit  for  (b"iid\ing,  by  following  a  deer-path  a  littlo 
to  the  southward.  And  there,  on  the  borders  of 
a  little  basin  on  a  pleasant  brae,  where  the  bright 
silver  birch  waved  gracefully  over  its  sides,  they 
decided  upon  building  a  winter-house.  They 
named  the  spot  Mount  Ararat:  "For  here," 
said  they,  "  we  will  build  us  an  ark  of  refuge, 
and  wander  no  more."  And  Mount  Ararat  is 
the  name  which  the  s[)ot  still  bears.  Here  they 
sat  them  down  on  a  fallen  tree,  and  ate  a  meal 
of  dried  venison,  and  drank  of  the  cold  spring 
that  welled  out  from  beneath  the  edge  of  the 
bank.  Hector  felled  a  tree  to  mark  the  site  of 
their  house  near  the  birches,  and  tliey  made  a 
regular  blaze  on  the  trees  as  they  returned 
home  towards  the  wigwam,  that  they  might  not 
miss  the  place.  They  found  less  difficulty  in  re- 
tracing their  path  than  they  had  formerly,  aa 
there  were  some  striking  peculiarities  to  mark 
it,  and  they  had  learned  to  be  very  minute  in 
the  remarks  they  made  as  they  travelled,  so  that 
they    now   seldom  missed  the  way  the\^  came 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CKL.SOKS, 


113 


by.  A  few  days  alter  this,  Uioy  roinovcnl  all 
their  hoiiSL'hoKl  storcrf,  viz.,  the  a\o,  the  tin-pot, 
bows  and  arrows,  baskets,  and  ba.ujs  of  dried 
fruit,  the  dried  venison  and  lish,  and  the  doer' 
skin  ;  nor  did  they  forget  tlic  decr-sealp,  whieh 
tlie}  bore  away  as  a  trophy,  to  be  fastened  up 
over  the  door  of  their  new  dwell inu:,  for  a  mo* 
luorial  of  tlieir  first  hunt  on  the  sliores  of  the 
Kice  Lake.  The  skin  was  given  to  Cutluirine  to 
sleej)  on. 

The  boys  were  now  busy  from  morning  till 
night  chopping  down  trees  for  house-logs.  It 
was  a  work  of  time  and  labour,  as  the  axe  was 
blunt,  and  the  oaks  hard  to  cut ;  but  they 
laboured  on  without  grumbling,  and  Kate 
watched  the  fall  of  each  tree  with  lively  joy. 
They  were  no  longer  dull;  there  was  something 
to  look  forward  to  from  day  to  day — they  were 
going  to  commence  iiousekeeping  in  good  earnest 
and  they  should  be  warm  and  well  lodged  before 
the  bitter  frosts  oi  winter  could  come  to  chill 
their  blood.  It  was  a  joj^ful  day  when  the  log 
walls  of  the  little  snarity  were  put  up,  and  the 
door  hewed  out.  Windows  they  had  none,  so 
they  did  not  cut  out  the  spaces  for  them  ;*  they 
could  do  very  well  without,  as  hundreds  of  Irish 

*  Many  a  slianty  is  ;'ft  up  in  Caiuida  without  windows,  and 
only  an  open  space  for  a  door,  witli  a  rude  plank  .set  up  to  do»e 
it  \u  at  night. 


ir 


-(:■ 


•^ 


mt 


144 


THK    CANADIAN    CRL'SOES. 


and  llighUiiid  umigrants  have  done  before  and 
»ince. 

A  ])ile  of  st(Mies  rudely  cemented  together 
Avith  wet  clay  and  ashes  against  the  logs,  and  a 
hole  cut  in  the  roof,  formed  the  chimney  and 
hearth  in  this  primitive  dwelling.  The  chinks 
were  filled  with  wedge-shaped  pieces  of  wood, 
and  plastered  with  cUiy  :  the  trees,  being  chiefly 
oaks  and  pines,  afforded  no  moss.  This  defi- 
ciency rather  surprised  the  boys,  for  in  the  thick 
forest  and  close  cedar  swamps,  moss  grows  in 
abundance  on  tlie  north  side  of  the  trees,  espe- 
cially on  the  cedar,  maple,  beech,  bass,  and  iron- 
wood  ;  but  there  were  few  of  these,  excepting 
a  chance  one  or  two  in  the  little  basin  in  front 
of  the  house.  The  roof  was  next  put  on,  which 
consisted  of  split  cedars;  and  when  the  little 
dwelling  wos  thus  far  habitable,  they  were  all 
Yery  happy.  AVhile  the  boys  had  been  putting 
on  the  roof,  Catharine  had  collected  the  stones 
for  the  chimnev,  and  cleared  the  earthen  floor 
of  the  chips  and  rubbish  with  a  broom  of  cedar 
bouijjhs,  bound  together  with  a  leathern  thono^. 
She  had  swept  it  all  clean,  carefully  removing 
all  unsightly  objects,  and  strewing  it  over  with 
fresh  cedar  sprigs,  which  gave  out  a  pleasant 
odour,  and  formed  a  smooth  and  not  unseemly 
carpet  for  their  little  dwelling.  How  cheerful 
was  the  first  fire  blazing  upon  their  own  hearth  1 


THK    CANADIAN    CHUSOES. 


145 


)re 


and 


Qfrether 
5,  and  a 
ley  and 
;  chinks 
f  wood, 
r  chiefly 
[lis  deii- 
he  thick 
;rows  in 
les,  espe- 
Lnd  iron- 
XLcepting 
in  front 
n,  which 
he  little 
,vere  all 
putting 
stones 
m  floor 
)f  cedar 
thong. 
Iraoving 
ter  with 
ileasant 
isecmly 
Tlieerful 
uearth  1 


It  was  so  pleasant  to  sit  by  its  gladdening  light, 
and  chat  away  of  all  they  had  done  and  all  that 
they  meant  to  do.  Here  was  to  be  a  set  of  split 
cedar  shelves,  to  hold  their  provisions  and  bas- 
kets ;  there  a  set  of  sto';t  pegs  were  to  be  insert- 
ed between  the  logs  for  hanging  up  strings  of 
dried  meat,  ba^s  of  birch-bark,  or  the  skins  of 
the  animals  they  were  to  shoot  or  trap.  A  table 
was  to  be  fixed  on  })osts  in  the  centre  of  the  floor. 
Louis  was  to  carve  wooden  platters  and  dishes, 
and  some  stools  were  to  be  made  with  hewn 
blocks  of  wood,  till  something  better  could  be 
devised.  Their  b^(lsteads  were  rough  poles  of 
iron-wood,  su})ported  by  posts  driven  into  the 
ground,  and  })artly  upheld  by  the  projection  of 
the  loiis  at  the  anj'les  of  the  wall.  Nothinoj  could 
be  more  simple.  The  framework  was  of  split 
'  cedai";  and  a  safe  bt^d.  was  made  by  pine  boughs 
being  first  laid  upon  tlie  frame,  and  then  thickly 
coevred  witli  dried  grass,  moss,  and  withered 
leaves.  Such  were  the  lowly  but  healthy  couches 
on  which  these  children  of  the  forest  slept. 

A  dwelling  so  rudely  framed  and  scantily 
furnished  would  be  regarded  with  disdain  by 
the  poorest  English  peasant.  Yet  many  a 
settler's  family  have  I  seen  as  roughly  lodged, 
while  a  better  house  v/as  being  prepared  for 
their  reception ;  and  many  a  gentleman's  son 
has  voluntarily  submitted  to  privations  as  great 
13 


3 


II' 


146 


THE   CANADIAN   CRl'SOES. 


as  these,  from  the  love  of  novelty  and  adventure, 
or  to  embark  in  the  tempting  expectation  of 
realizing  money  in  the  lumbering  trade,  working 
hard,  and  sharing  the  rude  log  shanty  and  ruder 
society  of  those  reckless  and  hardy  men,  the 
Canadian  lumberers.  During  the  spring  and 
summer  months,  these  men  spread  themselves 
through  the  trackless  forests,  and  along  the 
shores  of  nameless  lakes  and  unknown  streams, 
to  cut  the  pine  or  oak  lumber,  such  being  the 
name  they  give  to  the  felled  stems  of  trees, 
which  are  then  hewn,  and  in  the  winter  dragged 
out  upon  the  ice,  where  they  ar:  formed  into 
rafts,   and   floated    down  the   w  till  they 

reach  the  great  St.  Lawrence,  aau  are,  after 
innumerable  difficulties  and  casualties,  finally 
shipped  for  England.  I  have  likewise  known 
European  gentlemen  voluntarily  leave  the  com- 
forts of  a  civilized  home,  and  associate  them- 
selves with  the  Indian  trappers  and  hunters, 
leading  lives  as  wandering  and  as  wild  as  the 
uncultivated  children  of  the  forest. 

The  nights  and  early  mornings  were  already 
growing  sensibl}''  more  chilly.  The  dews  at 
this  season  fall  heavily,  and  the  mists  fill  the 
valleys,  till  the  sun  has  risen  with  sufficient  heat 
to  draw  up  the  vapours.  It  was  a  good  thing 
that  the  shanty  was  finished  so  soon,  or  the 
exposure  to  the  damp  air  might  have  been  pro- 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


147 


inture, 
ion  of 
orking 
I  ruder 
the 


jn 


» 


ig  and 
nselves 
ng  the 
treams, 
ing  the 
f  trees, 
Iragged 
ed  into 
11  they 
after 
finally 
known 
le  com- 
them- 
[unters, 
as  the 

ilready 
;ws  at 
ill  the 
it  heat 
thing 
)r  the 
m  pro- 


ductive of  ague  and  fever.  Every  hour  almost 
they  spent  in  making  little  additions  to  their 
household  comforts,  but  some  time  was  neces- 
earily  passed  in  trying  to  obtain  provisions. 
One  day  Hector,  who  had  been  out  from  dawn 
till  moonrise,  returned  with  the  welcome  news 
that  he  had  shot  a  young  deer,  and  required  the 
assistance  of  his  cousin  to  bring  it  up  the  steep 
bank — (it  was  just  at  the  entrance  of  the  great 
ravine) — below  the  precipitous  cliff  near  the 
lake ;  he  had  left  old  Wolfe  to  guard  it  in  the 
mean  time.  They  had  now  plenty  of  fresh  broiled 
meat,  and  this  store  was  very  acceptable,  as  they 
were  obliged  to  be  ver}'-  careful  of  the  dried 
meat  that  they  had. 

This  time  Catharine  adopted  a  new  plan. 
Instead  of  cutting  the  meat  in  strips,  and  drying 
it,  (or  jerking  it,  as  the  lumberers  term  it,)  she 
roasted  it  before  the  fire,  and  hung  it  up,  wrap- 
ping it  in  thin  sheets  of  birch  bark.  The  juices, 
instead  of  being  dried  up,  were  preserved,  and 
the  meat  was  more  palatable.  Catharine  found 
great  store  of  wild  plums  in  a  beautiful  valley, 
not  far  from  the  shanty  ;  these  she  dried  for  the 
winter  store,  eating  sparingly  of  them  in  their 
fresh  state ;  she  also  found  plenty  of  wild  black 
currants,  and  high-bush  cranberries,  on  the  banks 
of  a  charming  creek  of  bright  water  that  flowed 
between  a  range  of  high  pine  hills,  and  finally 


«S^a 


stfc! 


J. 


r 


148 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


emptied  itself  into  the  lake.*  There  were  great 
quantities  of  water-cresses  in  this  pretty  brook, 
they  grew  in  bright,  round,  cushion-like  tufts  at 
the  bottom  of  the  water,  and  were  tender  and 
wholesome.  These  formed  an  agreeable  addi* 
tion  to  their  diet,  which  had  hitherto  been  chiefly 
confined  to  animal  food,  for  they  could  not  always 
meet  with  a  supply  of  the  bread-roots,  as  they 
grew  chiefly  in  damp,  swampy  thickets  on  the 
lake  shore,  which  were  sometimes  very  difficult 
of  access;  however,  they  never  missed  any 
opportunity  of  increasing  their  stores,  and  lay- 
ing up  for  the  winter  such  roots  as  they  could 
procure. 

As  the  cool  weather  and  frosty  nights  drew 
on,  the  want  of  warm  clothes  and  bed-covering 
became  more  sensibly  felt :  those  they  had  were 
beginning  to  wear  out.  Catharine  had  managed 
to  wash  her  clothes  at  the  lake  several  times, 
and  thus  preserved  them  clean  and  wholesome ; 
but  she  was  often  sorely  puzzled  how  the  want 
of  her  dress  was  to  be  supplied  as  time  wore  on, 
and  many  were  the  consultations  she  held  with 
the  boys  on  the  important  subject.  With  the 
aid  of  a  needle  she  might  be  able  to  manufacture 


*  Tliis  little  strcivm  flows  through  the  green  meadows  of 
*'Gleiilyiulon,"  wutcrin;;  the  grounds  of  Mr.  Alfred  Hay  ward, 
whoso  iiiciuresque  cottage  forms  a  most  attractive  object  to  the 
eye  of  the  iravcil'^'* 


THE    CAXADIAX   CRUS0E3. 


14^ 


thii  skins  of  the  small  animals  into  some  soit  of 
jacket,  and  the  doe-skin  and  deer-skin  could  be 
made  into  gjirments  for  the  boys.  Louis  was 
always  supplying  and  rubbing  the  skins  to  make 
them  soft.  They  had  taken  oft'  the  hair  by 
sprinkling  it  with  wooti  ashes,  and  rolling  it  up 
with  the  hairy  side  inwards.  Out  of  one  of  these 
skins  he  made  excellent  mocassins,  piercing  "the 
holes  with  a  sharpened  bone  bodkin,  and  pass- 
ing the  sinews  of  the  deer  through,  as  he  had 
Been  his  tVither  do,  by  fixing  a  stout  fish-bone  to 
the  deer-sinew  thread  ;  thus  he  had  an  excellent 
substitute  for  a  needle,  and  with  the  aid  of  the 
old  file  he  sharpened  the  point  of  the  rusty  nail, 
BO  that  he  was  enabled,  with  a  little  trouble,  to 
drill  a  hole  in  a  bone  needle,  for  his  cousin  Cath- 
arine's use.  After  several  attempts,  he  succeeded 
in  making  some  of  tolerable  fineness,  hardening 
them  by  ex})Osure  to  a  slow,  steady  degree  of 
heat,  till  she  was  able  to  work  with  them,  and 
even  mend  her  clothes  with  tolerable  expertness. 
By  degrees,  Catharine  contrived  to  cover  the 
whole  outer  surface  of  her  homespun  woollen 
frock  with  squirrel  and  mink,  musk-rat  and 
woodchuck  skins.  A  curieus  piece  of  fur  patch- 
work of  many  hues  and  textures  it  presented 
to  the  eye, — a  coat  of  many  colours,  it  is  true : 
but  it  kept  the  wearer  warm,  and  Catharine  was 
Qot  a  little  proud  of  her  ingenuity  and  industry 
13* 


i 


'-■{JO 


I 


150 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


every  new  patch  that  was  added  was  a  source  of 
fresh  satisfaction,  and  the  mocassins,  that  Louis 
fitted  so  nicely  to  her  feet,  were  great  comforts. 
A  fine  skin  that  Hector  brought  triumphantly  in 
one  day,  the  spoil  from  a  fox  that  had  been 
caught  in  one  of  his  dead-falls,  was  in  due  time 
converted  into  a  dashing  cap,  the  brush  remain- 
ing as  an  ornament  to  hang  down  on  one  shoulder. 
Catharine  might  have  passed  for  a  small  Diana, 
when  she  went  out  with  her  fur  dress  and  bow 
and  arrows  to  hunt  with  Hector  and  Louie. 

Whenever  game  of  any  kind  was  killed,  it 
was  carefully  skinned  and  stretched  upon  bent 
sticks,  being  first  turned,  so  as  to  present  the 
inner  part  to  the  drying  action  of  the  air.  The 
young  hunters  were  most  expert  in  this  work, 
having  been  accustomed  for  many  years  to  assist 
their  fathers  in  preparing  the  furs  which  they 
disposed  of  to  the  fur  traders,  who  visited  them 
from  time  to  time,  and  gave  them  various  ar- 
ticles in  exchange  for  their  peltries,  such  as 
powder  and  shot,  and  cutlery  of  different  kinds, 
as  knives,  scissors,  needles,  and  pins,  with  gay 
calicoes  and  cotton  handkerchiefs  for  the  women. 

As  the  evenings  lengthened,  the  boys  en.v 
ployed  themselves  with  carving  wooden  platters : 
knives,  and  forks,  and  spoons  they  fashioned  out 
of  the  larger  bones  of  the  deer,  which  they  of- 
ten found  bleaching  in  the  sun  and  wind,  where 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


151 


they  had  been  left  by  their  enemies  the  wolves ; 
baskets,  too,  they  made,  and  birch  dishes,  which 
they  could  now  finish  so  well  that  they  held 
water,  or  any  liquid ;  but  their  great  want  was 
some  vessel  that  would  bear  the  heat  of  the  fire. 
The  tin-pot  was  so  small  that  it  could  be  made 
little  use  of  in  the  cooking  way.  Catharine  had 
made  an  attempt  at  making  tea,  on  a  small 
scale,  of  the  leaves  of  the  sweet  fern, — a  graceful 
woody  fern,  with  a  fine  aromatic  scent  like  nut- 
megs. Tliis  plant  is  highly  esteemed  among 
the  Canadians  as  a  beverage,  and  also  as  a 
remedy  against  the  ague;  it  grows  in  great 
abundance  on  dry,  sandy  lands  and  wastes,  by 
waysides. 

"  If  we  could  but  make  some  sort  of  earthen 
pot  that  would '  stand  the  heat  of  the  fire,"  said 
Louis,  "  we  could  get  on  nicely  with  cooking." 

But  nothing  like  the  sort  of  clay  used  by  pot- 
ters had  been  seen,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
give  up  that  thought,  and  content  themselves 
with  roasting  or  broiling  their  food.  Louis, 
however,  who  was  fond  of  contrivances,  made 
an  oven,  by  hollowing  out  a  place  near  the 
hearth,  and  lining  it  with  stones,  filling  up  the 
intervals  with  wood  ashes  and  such  clay  as  they 
could  find,  beaten  into  a  smooth  mortar.  Such 
cement  answered  very  well,  and  the  oven  was 
heated«by  filling  it  with  hot  embers ;  these  were 


1f 


J. 


152 


TIIK   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


i 


removed  when  it  was  sufTiciontly  liojitcd,  and 
the  meat  or  roots  placed  within,  the  oven  being 
covered  over  with  a  flat  stone  previously  heated 
before  the  lire,  and  covered  with  live  coals. 
This  sort  of  oven  had  often  been  described  by 
old  Jacob,  as  one  in  connnon  use  among  scurie 
of  the  Indian  tribes  in  the  lower  province,  in 
which  they  cook  small  animals,  and  make  ex- 
cellent meat  of  them;  they  could  bake  bread 
also  in  this  oven,  if  they  had  had  flour  to  use.* 
Since  the  finishing  of  the  house  and  furnish- 
ing it,  the  young  people  were  more  reconciled 
to  their  lonely  life,  and  even  entertained  decided 
home  feelings  for  their  little  log  cabin.  They 
never  ceased,  it  is  true,  to  talk  of  their  parents, 
and  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  wonder  if  all  were 
well,  and  whether  they  still  hoped  for  their 
return,  and  to  recall  all  their  happy  days  spent 
in  the  home  which  they  now  feared  they  were 
destined  never  again  to  behold.  About  the 
same  time  they  lost  the  anxious  hope  of  meeting 
some  one  from  home  in  search  of  them  at  every 
turn  when  they  went  out.  Nevertheless,  they 
were  becorains^  each  day  more  cheerful  and 
more  active.  Ardently  attached  to  each  other, 
they  seemed  bound  to  each  other  by  a  yet  more 


*  This  primitive  oven  is  much  like  what  voynofera  have 
described  as  in  use  among  the  natives  of  many  of  the  Soutt 
fiea  ialauds. 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


15r? 


;d,  and 
being 
heated 
coals. 
}ed  hy 
f  some 
nee,  in 
ike  ex- 
bread 
)  use.* 
arnish- 
on  oiled 
lecided 
They 
arents, 
11  were 
their 
spent 
were 
lut  the 
leeting 
every 
they 
ll    and 
|other, 
more 

Is   have 
Soutt 


eacrcd  tie  of  brotherhood.  They  were  no  v  all 
the  world  to  one  another,  and  no  cloud  of  dis- 
union came  to  mar  their  ha|)])iness.  Hectors 
habitual  .i^ravity  and  caution  were  tem{)ered  by 
Louis's  lively  vivacity  and  ardour  of  temper, 
and  they  both  loved  Catharine,  and  strove  to 
smooth,  as  much  as  [)ossible,  the  hard  life  :o 
which  she  was  exposed,  by  the  most  alfi'Ctionate 
consideration  for  her  comfort ;  and  she  in  return 
endeavoured  to  repay  them  by  cheerfully  enihi- 
ring  all  privations,  and  making  light  of  all  their 
trials,  and  taking  a  lively  interest  in  all  theii 
plans  and  contrivances. 

Louis  had  gone  out  to  fish  at  the  lake  one. 
autumn  morning.  During  his  absence,  a  sudden 
squall  of  wind  came  on,  accompanied  with  heavy 
rain.  As  he  stayed  longer  than  usual,  Hector 
began  to  feel  uneasy,  lest. some  accident  had 
befallen  him,  knowing  his  adventurous  spirit, 
and  that  he  had  for  some  days  previous  been 
busy  constructing  a  raft  of  cedar  logs,  which  he 
had  fastened  together  with  wooden  pins.  This 
raft  he  had  nearly  finished,  and  was  even  talk- 
ing of  adventuring  over  to  the  nearest  island  to 
explore  it,  and  see  what  game,  and  roots,  and 
fruits  it  afiorded. 

Bidding  Catharine  stay  quietly  within  doors 
till  his  return,  Hector  ran  off,  not  without  some 
misgivings  of   evil   having   befallen    his    rasb 


lifW 


'<!2 


•  Utli 


*• 


1 ' 


154 


THE   CANADIAN   CKl'SOES. 


t 


3onsin,  which  fours  ho  carefully  concealed  from 
his  sister,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  make  her  need- 
lessly anxious.  When  he  reached  the  shore,  his 
mind  was  somewhat  relieved  bv  seeinsc  the  raft 
on  the  beach,  just  as  it  had  been  left  the  night 
before,  but  neither  Louis  nor  the  axe  was  to  be 
seen,  nor  the  fishing-rod  and  line. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  he,  "Louis  has  gone  fur- 
ther down  to  the  mouth  of  the  little  creek,  in 
the  flat  east  of  this,  where  we  caught  our  last 
fish  ;  or  maybe  he  has  gone  up  to  the  old  place 
at  Pine-tree  Point." 

While  he  yet  stood  hesitating  within  himself 
which  way  to  turn,  he  heard  steps  as  of  some 
one  running,  and  perceived  his  cousin  hurrying 
through  the  bushes  in  the  direction  of  the 
shanty.  It  was  evident  by  his  disordered  air, 
and  the  hurried  glances  that  he  cast  over  his 
shoulder  from  time  to  time,  that  something  un- 
usual had  occurred  to  disturb  him. 

"  Halloo !  Louis,  is  it  bear,  wolf,  or  catamount 
that  is  on  your  trail?"  cried  Hector,  almost 
amused  by  the  speed  with  which  his  cousin  hur- 
ried onward.     "  Why,  Louis,  whither  away  ?" 

Louis  now  turned  and  held  up  his  hand,  as  if 
to  enjoin  silence,  till  Hector  came  up  to  him. 

"  Why,  man,  what  ails  you  ?  what  makes 
you  run  as  if  you  were  hunted  down  by  a  pack 
of  wolves  ?" 


THE   CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


155 


"  It  is  not  wolvos,  or  bears  either,"  said  Louis, 
as  soon  as  he  could  get  breatli  to  speak,  •'  but 
tlie  Indians  are  all  on  Bare-hill,  holding  a  war 
council,  I  suppose,  for  there  are  several  canoe- 
loads  of  them." 

"  How  came  you  to  see  them  ?" 

'*  I  must  tell  you  that  when  I  parted  from 
you  and  Cathy,  instead  of  going  down  to  my 
raft,  as  I  thought  at  first  I  would  do,  I  followed 
the  deer  path  through  the  little  ravine,  and  then 
ascending  the  side  of  the  valley,  I  crossed  the 
birch  grove,  and  kept  down  the  slope  within 
sight  of  the  creek.  While  I  was  looking  out 
upon  the  lake,  and  thinking  how  pretty  the 
islands  were,  rising  so  green  from  the  blue  water, 
I  was  surprised  by  seeing  several  dark  spots 
dotting  the  lake.  At  first,  you  may  be  sure,  I 
thought  they  must  be  a  herd  of  deer,  only  they 
kept  too  far  apart,  so  I  sat  down  on  a  log  to 
watch,  thinking  if  they  turned  out  to  be  deer,  I 
would  race  off  for  you  and  Wolfe,  and  the  bows 
and  arrows,  that  we  might  try  our  chance  for 
some  venison ;  but  as  the  black  specks  came 
iH.'arer  and  nearer,  I  perceived  they  were  canoes 
with  Indians  in  them,  three  in  each.  They  made 
for  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  ran  ashore 
among  the  thick  bushes.  I  watched  them  with 
a  beating  heart,  and  lay  down  flat  lest  they 
should  spy  me  out;  for  those  fellows  have  eyes 


i«    wl 


urn.''*    1. 


i;f 


Uyi 


"J 


:i".i> 


n 


i 


150 


THE   CAXADTAX   CHUSOES. 


■I'll 


lilv'o  catanioiiiits,  so  keen  and  wild — tliey  seo 
every  tliin;^  without  scorning  to  cast  a  glance  on 
it.  Well,  I  saw  tliein  wind  up  the  ridge  till 
they  reached  the  l^arc-hiU.*  You  remember 
that  spot ;  we  called  it  so  from  its  barren  ap- 
pearance. In  a  lew  minutes  a  column  of  smoke 
rose  and  curled  among  the  pine-trees,  and  then 
another  and  another,  till  I  counted  five  fires 
burnini^  briufhtly;  and,  as  I  stood  on  the  hii'h 
ground,  I  could  distinguish  the  figures  of  many 
naked  savages  moving  about,  running  to  and 
fro  like  a  parcel  of  black  ants  on  a  cedar  log  ; 
and  by  and  by  I  heard  theni  raise  a  yell  like  a 
pack  of  ravenous  wolves  on  a  deer  track.  It 
made  my  heart  leap  up  in  my  breast.  I  forgot 
all  the  schemes  that  had  just  got  into  my  wise 
head,  of  slipping  quietly  down,  and  taking  off 
one  of  the  empty  birch  canoes,  which  you  must 
own  would  have  been  a  glorious  thing  for  us ; 
but  when  I  heard  the  noise  these  wild  wretches 
raised,  I  darted  oif,  and  ran  as  if  the  whole  set 
were  at  my  heels.  I  think  I  just  saved  my 
scalp."  And  Louis  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and 
tugged  his  thick  black  curls,  as  if  to  ascertain 

*  Supposed  to  bo  ii  council  hill.  It  is  known  by  tlie  naino 
of  Bare-hill,  from  the  ainiruhir  want  of  verdure  on  its  surface. 
It  is  one  of  the  steepest  on  the  ridge  above  the  little  creek; 
beiusr  a  picturesque  ol)jeot,  with  its  flue  pine-trees,  seen  from 
Mr.  Iluywurd's  grounds,  and  forms,  ]  believe,  a  part  of  his 
property. 


It 
0 


THE    CANADIAN    CMU'rfOKS. 


1j7 


that  ihoy  wore  still  safe  from  the  sciilpitig-knives 
of  his  Indian  enemies. 

"  And  now,  llee,  what  is  to  be  done?  Wo 
must  hide  ourselves  from  the  Indians;  they  will 
kill  us,  or  take  us  away  with  them  if  they  find 


us. 


» 


"Let  us  .go  home  and  talk  over  our  planfj 
with  Cathy." 

''Yes;  for  I  have  heard  my  father  say  two 
heads  are  better  than  one,  and  so  three  of  course 
must  be  still  better  than  two." 

"  Wliy,"  said  lleetor,  laughing,  "  it  depends 
upon  the  stoek  of  practical  wisdom  in  the  heads, 
for  two  fools,  you  know,  Louis,  v/ill  hardly  form 
one  rational  plan." 

Various  were  the  schemes  devised  for  their 
security.  Hector  proposed  pulling  down  the 
shanty,  and  dispersing  the  logs,  so  as  to  leave 
no  trace  of  the  little  dwell inur ;  but  to  this  neither 
his  cousin  nor  his  sister  would  agree.  To  pull 
down  the  new  house  that  had  cost  them  so  much 
labour,  and  which  had  proved  such  a  comfort  to 
them,  they  could  not  endure  even  in  idea. 

"  Let  us  put  out  the  fire,  and  hide  ourselves 
in  the  big  ravine  below  Mount  Ararat,  dig  a 
cave  in  one  of  the  hills,  and  convey  our  house- 
hold  goods  thither."     Such  was  Louis's  plan. 

''The  ravines  would  be  searched  directly," 
suggested  Hector  ;  "  besides,  the  Indian^:  know 
14 


!l«**"^ 
•••/U 


'.•""f*: 


*^ 


1  U^J^ 


158 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


;i"it 


they  are  famous  coverts  for  deer  and  game  of  all 
sorts;  they  might  chance  to  pop  upon  us,  and 
catch  us  like  woodchucks  in  a  burrow." 

"  Yes,  and  burn  us,"  said  Catharine,  with  a 
shudder.  *'  I  know  the  path  that  leads  direct  to 
the  '  Happy  Valley,'  (the  name  she*had  given 
to  the  low  flat,  now  known  as  the  '  lower  Kace- 
course,')  and  it  is  not  far  from  here,  only  ten 
minutes'  walk  in  a  straight  line.  We  can  con- 
ceal ourselves  below  the  steep  bank  that  we 
descended  the  other  day  ;  and  there  are  several 
springs  of  fresh  water  and  plenty  of  nuts  and 
berries;  and  the  trees,  though  few,  are  so 
thickly  covered  with  close  spreading  branches 
that  touch  the  very  ground,  that  we  might  hide 
ourselves  from  a  hundred  eyes  were  they  ever 
so  cunning  and  prying." 

Catharine's  counsel  was  deemed  the  most 
prudent,  and  the  boys  immediately  busied  them- 
selves with  hiding  under  the  broken  branches 
oi  a  prostrate  tree  such  articles  as  they  could  not 
conveniently  carry  away,  leaving  the  rest  to 
chance;  with  the  most  valuable  they  loaded 
themselves,  and  guided  by  Catharine,  who, 
with  her  dear  old  dog,  marched  forward  along 
the  narrow  footpath  that  had  been  made  by 
some  wild  animals,  probably  deer,  in  their  pas- 
sage from  the  lake  to  their  feeding-place,  or 
favourite  covert,  on  the  low  sheltered  plain; 


fr( 

Wf 


e  of  al] 
IS,  and 

with  a 
irect  to 
i  giveu 
r  Kace- 
ily  ten 
m  con- 
bat  we 
several 
its  and 
are  so 
•anches 
at  hide 
y  ever 

most 
them- 
mches 
Id  not 
est  to 
oaded 

who, 

along 

le  bv 

pas- 

le,  or 

lain ; 


THE  CANADIAN   CUUSOES. 


159 


where,  being  quite  open,  and  almost,  in  parts, 
free  from  trees,  the  grass  and  herbage  were 
Bweeter  and  more  abundant,  and  the  springs  of 
water  fresh  and  cool. 

Catharine  cast  many  a  fearful  glance  through 
the  brushwood  as  they  moved  onward,  but  ^slW 
no  living  thing,  excepting  a  fl\mily  of  chitminka 
gayly  chasing  each  other  along  a  fallen  branch, 
and  a  covey  of  quails,  that  were  feeding  quietly 
on  the  red  berries  of  the  Mitchella  repens,  or 
twinberry,*  as  it  is  commonly  called,  of  which 
the  partridges  and  quails  are  extremely  fond ; 
for  nature,  with  liberal  hand,  has  spread  abroad 
her  bounties  for  the  small  denizens,  furred  or 
feathered,  that  haunt  the  Rice  Lake  and  its 
Qowery  shores. 

After  a  continued  but  gentle  ascent  through 
the  oak  opening,  they  halted  at  the  foot  of  a 
majestic  pine,  and  looked  round  them.  It  was 
a  lovely  spot  as  any  they  had  seen ;  from  west 
to  east,  the  lake,  bending  like  a  silver  crescent, 
lay  between  the  boundary  hills  of  forest  trees ; 
in  front,  the  long  lines  of  undulating  wood- 
cove/ed  heights  faded  away  into  mist,  and 
blended  with  the  horizon.  To  the  east,  a  deep 
and  fertile  valley  lay  between  the  high  lands, 

*  Also  partridge-borry  and  checko berry,  a  lovely  creeping 
win«^«r-green,  with  white  fragrant  flowers,  and  double  scarlet 
berry. 


■i*****!^ 
m*    m 


-:;3 


'Ml' 


-.umJI 


''■«, 


.  9 


160 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSuKS. 


:i"ij 


m 


I 


.?^ 


Oil  which  thev  rested,  and  the  far  ridj^e  of  oak 
hills.  From  their  vantage  height,  they  could 
distinguish  the  outline  of  the  Bare-hill,  made 
more  distinct  by  its  flickering  fires  and  tho 
smoke  wreaths  that  hung  like  a  pearly-tinted 
robe  aniong  the  dark  pines  that  grew  upon  its 
crest.  Not  long  tarrying  did  our  fugitives 
make,  though  perfectl}^  safe  from  detection  by 
the  distance  and  their  shaded  position,  for  many 
a  winding  vale  and  wood-crowned  height  lay 
between  them  and  the  encampment. 

But  fear  is  not  subject  to  the  control  of  reason, 
and  in  the  present  instance  it  invested  the 
dreaded  Indians  with  superhuman  powers  of 
sight  and  of  motion.  A  few  minutes'  hasty 
flight  brought  our  travellers  to  the  brow  of  a 
precipitous  bank,  nearly  a  hundred  feet  above 
the  level  open  plain  which  they  sought.  Here, 
then,  they  felt  comparatively  safe:  they  were 
out  of  sight  of  the  camp  fires,  the  spot  they  had 
chosen  was  open,  and  flight,  in  case  of  the  ap- 
proach of  the  Indians,  not  difficult,  while- hiding- 
places  were  easy  of  access.  They  found  a  deep^ 
sheltered  hollow  in  the  ba  .k,  where  two  mighty 
pines  had  been  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  pros- 
trated headlong  down  the  steep,  forming  a  regu- 
lar cave,  roofed  by  the  earth  and  fibres  that  had 
been  uplifted  in  their  fall.  Pendent  from  these 
roots  hung  a  luxuriant  curtain  of  wild  grape* 


of  oak 
^  could 
,  made 
nd  tho 
^■tinted 
ipoii  its 
igitives 
Aon  by 
r  many 
^ht  lay 


reason, 
ed  the 
vers  of 
hasty 
)w  of  a 
above 
Here, 
were 
ey  had 
he  ap- 
lidiiig- 
deep> 
lighty 
pros- 
regu- 
it  had 
these 
;rape- 


THE   CAN  A  [)T  AX   CRUSOES. 


161 


vines  and  other  creepers,  which  formed  a  leafy 
Bcreen,  through  which  the  most  curious  eye 
cou]d  scarcely  penetrate.  This  friendly  vege- 
table veil  seemed  as  if  provided  for  their  con- 
cealment, and  they  carefully  abstained  from 
disturbing  the  pendent  foliage,  lest  they  should, 
by  so  doing,  betray  their  hiding-place  to  their 
enemies.  Tliey  found  })lenty  of  long  grass,  and 
abundance  of  long,  soft  green  moss  and  ferns 
near  a  small  grove  of  poplars,  which  surrounded 
a  spring  of  fine  water.  They  ate  some  dried 
fruit  and  smoked  fish,  and  drank  some  of  the 
clear  spring;  and  after  they  had  said  their 
evenirlg  prayers,  they  laid  down  to  sleep,  Catha- 
rine's head  pillowed  on  the  neck  of  her  faithful 
guardian,  Wolfe.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  a 
startling  sound,  as  of  some  heavy  body  falling, 
wakened  them  all  simultaneously.  The  night 
was  so  dark  they  could  see  nothing,  and  terror- 
struck,  they  sat  gazing  into  the  impenetrable 
darkness  of  their  cave,  not  even  daring  to  speak 
to  each'  other,  hardly  even  to  breathe.  Wolfe 
gave  a  low  grumbling  bark,  and  resumed  bis 
couchant  posture  as  if  nothing  worthy  of  his 
attention  was  near  to  cause  the  disturbance. 
Catharine  trembled  and  wept,  and  prayed  for 
safety  against  the  Indians  and  beasts  of  prey, 
and  Hector  and  Louis  listened,  till  thev  fell 
asleep  in  spite  of  their  fears.  In  the  morning, 
14* 


!«»» 


xmH 


•I. 


162 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


Wtf' 

m 


it  seemed  as  if  they  had  dreamed  some  terrible 
dream,  so  vague  were  their  recolleetions  of  the 
fright  they  had  had,  but  the  cause  was  soon 
perceived.  A  large  stone  that  had  been  heaved 
up  witli  the  clay  that  adhered  to  the  roots  and 
fibres,  had  been  loosened,  and  had  fallen  on  the 
ground,  close  to  the  spot  where  Catharine  lay. 
So  ponderous  was  the  mass,  that  had  it  struck 
her,  death  must  have  been  the  consequence  of 
the  blow ;  and  Hector  and  Louis  beheld  it  with 
fear  and  amazement,  while  Catharine  regarded 
it  as  a  proof  of  Divine  mercy  and  protection 
from  Him  in  whose  hand  her  safety  lay.  The 
boys,  warned  by  this  accident,  carefully  re- 
moved several  large  stones  from  the  roof,  and 
tried  the  safety  of  their  clay  walls  with  a  stout 
staff,  to  ascertain  that  all  was  secure,  before 
they  again  ventured  to  sleep  beneath  this 
rugged  canopy. 


DO 


THE   CANADIAN   CUUSUKS. 


163 


terrible 
;  of  tbe 
IS  soon 
heaved 
>ots  and 
1  on  the 
ine  lay. 
t  struck 
Lence  of 
i  it  with 
egarded 
otection 
y.     The 
ally   re- 
oof,  and 
a  stout 
before 
th    this 


CHAPTER    V. 

"The  soul  of  the  wicked  desireth  e%-il ;  his  neiglibour  findeth 
DO  fiivour  in  liis  sight." — Pivoerhn. 

FOR  several  days  they  abstained  from  light- 
ing a  fire,  lest  the  smoke  should  be  seen  ;  but 
this,  the  great  height  of  the  bank  would  have 
effectually  prevented.  They  suffered  much  cold 
at  night  from  the  copious  dews,  which,  even  on 
sultry  summer  evenings,  is  productive  of  much 
chilling.  They  could  not  account  for  the  fact 
that  the  air,  at  night,  was  much  warmer  on  the 
high  hills  than  in  the  low  valleys ;  they  were 
even  sensible  of  a  rush  of  heat  as  thej  ascended 
to  the  higher  ground.  These  simple  children 
had  not  been  taught  that  it  is  the  nature  of  the 
heated  air  to  ascend,  and  its  place  to  be  supplied 
by  the  colder  and  denser  particles.  They  no- 
ticed the  effects,  but  understood  nothing  of  the 
causes  that  ruled  them. 

The  following  days  they  procured  several 
partridges,  but  feared  to  cook  them ;  however, 
they  plucked  them,  split  them  open,  and  dried 
the  flesh  for  a  future  day.  A  fox  or  racoon, 
attracted  by  the  smell  of  the  birds,  came  one 
aight  and  carried  them  off,  for  in  the  morning 


4"^ 

i 


:  a 


) 


*• 


164 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


they  were  gone.  They  saw  several  herd  of  deer 
crossing  the  [)laiii,  and  one  day  'Wolfe  tracked 
a  wounded  doe  to  a  covert  under  the  poplars, 
near  a  l^idden  spring,  where  she  had  lain  herself 
down  to  die  in  peace,  far  from  the  haunts  of  her 
fellows.  The  arrow  was  in  her  throat;  it  was 
of  white  flint,  and  had  evidently  been  sent  from 
an  Indian  bow.  It  was  almost  with  fear  and 
trembling  thnt  they  availed  themselves  of  the 
venison  thus  providentially  thrown  in  their 
way,  lest  the  Indians  should  track  the  blood  of 
the  doe,  and  take  vengeance  on  them  for  appro- 
priating it  for  their  own  use.  Not  having  seen 
any  thing  of  the  Indians,  who  seemed  to  confine 
themselves  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  lake, 
after  many  days  had  passed,  they  began  to  take 
courage,  and  even  lighted  an  evening  fire,  at 
which  they  cooked  as  much  venison  as  would 
last  them  for  several  days,  and  hung  the  remain- 
ing portions  above  the  smoke  to  preserve  it  from 
injury. 

One  morning,  Hector  proclaimed  his  intention 
of  ascending  the  hills,  in  ,the  direction  of  the 
Indian  camp.  "  I  am  tired  of  remaining  shut  up 
in  thi'",  dull  place,  where  we  can  see  nothing  but 
this  dead  flat,  bounded  by  those  melancholy 
pines  in  the  distance  that  seem  to  shut  us  in." 

Little  did  Hector  know  that  beyond  that  dark 
ridge  of  pine  hills  lay  the  home  of  their  child- 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


165 


hood,  and  but  a  few  miles  of  fore.st  intervened 
to  hide  it  from  their  sight.  Had  he  known  it, 
how  eagerly  would  his  feet  have  pressed  on- 
ward in  the  direction  of  that  dark  barrier  of 
evergreens! 

Thus  is  it  often  in  this  life :  we  wander  on, 
sad  and  perplexed,  our  path  beset  with  thorns 
and  briers.  We  cannot  see  our  way  clear; 
doubts  and  ap})rehensions  assail  us.  We  know 
not  how  near  we  are  to  the  fulfilment  of  our 
wishes ;  we  see  only  the  insurmountable  bar- 
riers, the  dark  thickets  and  thorns  of  our  way ; 
and  we  know  not  how  near  we  are  to  our  Fa- 
ther's home,  where  ile  is  waiting  to  welcome  the 
wanderers  of  the  flock  back  to  the  everlasting 
home,  the  fold  of  the  Good  Shepherd. 

Hector  became  impatient  of  the  restraint  that 
the  dread  of  the  Indians  imposed  upon  his 
movements :  he  wanted  to  see  the  lake  again ; 
and  to  roam  abroad  free  and  uncontrolled. 

"  Afler  all,"  said  he ;  "  we  never  met  with 
any  ill  treatment  from  the  Indians  that  used  to 
visit  us  at  Cold  Springs ;  we  may  even  find  old 
friends  and  acquaintances  among  them." 

"  The  thing  is  possible,  but  not  very  likely," 
replied  Louis.  "  Nevertheless,  Hector,  I  would 
not  willingly  put  myself  in  their  power.  The 
Indian  has  his  own  notion  of  things,  and  might 
think  himself  quite  justified  in  killing  us,  if  ho 


J 


lit 
■11. 

Km*'"''     -«(.(i 

""■■■■"^ 


> 


r 


i66 


THE   CANADIAN    CIU;S(>F':S. 


ti; 

ili'ii  ;ii 
i"    1 

111:  ■'r 
■«l 


found  us  on  his  hunting-grounds.*  I  hnve  heard 
my  father  say, — and  he  knows  a  great  deal 
about  these  people, — that  their  chiefs  are  very 
strict  in  punishing  any  strangers  that  they  find 
killing  game  on  their  bounds  uninvited.  They 
are  both  merciless  and  treacherous  when  anger- 
ed, and  we  could  not  even  speak  to  them  in 
their  own  language,  to  explain  by  what  chance 
we  came  here." 

This  was  very  prudent  of  Louis,  uncommonly 
BO,  for  one  who  was  naturally  rash  and  head- 
strong, but  unfortunately  Hector  wajs  inflexible 
and  wilful :  when  once  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  upon  any  point,  he  had  too  good  an  opin- 
ion of  his  own  judgment  to  give  it  up.  At  last, 
he  declared  his  intention,  rather  than  reni.tin  a 
slave  to  such  cowardly  fears  as  he  now  deemed 
them,  to  go  forth  boldly,  and  endeavcyur  to  as- 
certain what  the  Indians  were  abouf^  how  many 
there  were  of  them,  and  what  real  Linger  was 
to  be  apprehended  iVom  facing  ther  .. 

*  George  Copwiiy,  an  inlelllgent  Kice  Lakf  Indian,  says  the 
Indian  hunting-grounds  are  parcelled  out,  anJ  seenred  by  right 
of  law  and  custom  among  themselves,  no  on<  being  allowed  to 
hunt  upon  another's  grounds  uninvited.  If  .ny  one  belonging 
to  another  fiimily  or  tribe  is  found  trespas  .ng,  all  his  goods 
are  taken  from  him  ;  a  handful  of  powder  ar  i  shot,  as  mach  as 
he  would  need  to  shoot  game  for  his  sustt  lance  in  returning 
Btraight  home,  and  his  gun,  knife,  and  torn  kawk  only  aie  left, 
but  all  his  game  and  furs  are  taken  from  nim  ;  a  message  is 
Bent  to  his  chief,  and  if  lie  transgresses  a  tiTrd  time,  he  is  ban- 
»«hed  and  outlawed. — Life  of  G,  Copway^  wrif,t€v  hy  himself . 


iiel 

Hp| 

usi 


THE    CANADIAN'   (  RUSOES. 


167 


^e  heard 
at  deal 
ire  very 
lev  find 
"They 
I  anger- 
hem  in 
chance 

nmonly 
d  head- 
flexible 
lip  his 
,n  opin- 
A.t  last, 
nuiin  a 
Iv^emed 
to  as- 
many 
er  was 


says  the 
by  riffht 
owed  to 
longing 
s  goods 
mach  as 
turning 
me  left, 
ssage  is 
is  ban- 

v/- 


•*'  Depend  upon  it,"  he  uaded,  "  cowards  are 
never  safer  than  brave  men.  The  Indians  de- 
spise cowards,  and  would  be  more  likely  to  kill 
us  if  they  found  us  cowering  here  in  this  hole 
like  a  parcel  of  wolf  cubs,  than  if  we  opeidy 
faced  them  and  showed  that  we  neither  feared 
llien.,  nor  cared  foi*  thinn." 

"Hector,  dear  Hector,  be  not  so  rash!"  cried 
his  sister,  passionately  weej)ing.  "Ah!  if  we 
were  to  lose  you,  what  would  become  of  us?" 

"  Never  fear,  Kate ;  I  will  run  into  no  need- 
less danger.  I  know  how  to  take  care  of  myself. 
I  am  of  opinion  that  the  Indian  camp  is  broken 
up ;  they  seldom  stay  long  in  one  place.  I  will 
go  over  the  hills  and  examine  the  camp  at  a 
distance  and  the  lake  shore.  You  and  Louis 
may  keep  watch  for  my  return  from  the  big 
pine  that  we  halted  under  on  our  way  hither." 

"  But,  Hector,  if  the  savages  should  see  you, 
and  take  you  prisoner,"  said  Catharine,  "  what 
would  you  do  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  would  do.  Instead 
of  running  away,  I  would  boldly  walk  up  to 
them,  and  by  signs  make  them  understand  that 
r  am  no  scout,  but  a  friend  in  need  of  nothing 
but  kindness  and  friendship.  I  never  yet  heard 
of  the  Iniliun  that  would  tomahawk  the  defence- 
less stranger  that  sought  his  camp  openly  in 
peace  and  good-will." 


Ill*     ky 

i 


i**  t 


V. 


».'♦>'.» 


M 


^  :« 


168 


TlIK    CANADIAN    CKISOKS. 


"mi 

lli'i)  mi, 


*'  ff  yoii  do  not  return  by  sunset,  Hector,  we 
shall  believe  that  you  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  savages,"  said  Catharine,  mournfully  re- 
garding her  brother. 

"  If  it  were  not   for  Catharine,"  said  Louis, 


**you  should  not  go  alone  ;  but  if  evil  befell  this 
hel|)less  one,  her  blood  would  be  upon  my  head, 
who  led  her  out  with   us,  tempting  her  with 


fal 


)rds 


se  woi 

*' Never  mind  that  now,  dearest  ceusin,"  said 
Catharine,  tenderly  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
'*  It  is  much  better  that  we  should  have  been  all 
three  together  ;  I  should  never  have  been  ha})p} 
again  if  I  had  lost  both  Ilec  and  you.  It  is 
better  as  it  is ;  you  and  Ilec  would  not  have 
been  so  well  off  if  I  had  not  been  with  you  to 
help  you,  and  keep  up  your  spirits  by  my  songs 
and  stories." 

"  It  is  true,  ma  ch^rc  ;  but  that  is  the  reason 
that  I  am  bound  to  take  care  of  my  little  cousin, 
and  I  could  not  consent  to  exposing  you  to  dan- 
ger, or  leaving  you  alone  ;  so,  if  Hec  will  be  so 
headstrong,  I  will  abide  by  you." 

Hector  was  so  confident  that  he  should  return 
in  safety,  that  at  last  Louis  ;;nd  Catharine  be- 
came more  reconciled  to  his  leaving  them,  and 
goon  busied  themselves  in  preparing  some  squir- 
rels that  Louis  had  brought  in  that  morning. 

The  day  wore  away  slowly,  and  many  were 


t) 


tor,  we 
!  hands 
ully  re- 
Louis, 
fell  this 
y  head, 
:r  with 

n,"  said 
lis  arm. 
3een  all 

happ} 
,  It  is 
t  have 

you  to 
songs 

reason 
;ousin, 

10  dan- 

11  be  so 

Ireturn 
|ne  be- 
I,  and 
I  squir- 
ing. 
were 


TlIK    CANADIAN    CIU'SOKS. 


169 


the  anxious  ghuK.'cs  tliiit  ( 'atlKirine  cast  ov(3r  the 
crest  of  the  high  l)aiik  to  wateh  for  her  brother's 
return  ;  at  last,  unable  to  endure  the  sus[)ense, 
she  with  Louis  left  the  shelter  of  the  valley; 
they  ascended  the  high  gi-ound,  and  bent  their 
steps  to  the  trysting  tree,  which  coninianded  all 
the  countr}^  within  a  wide  sweep. 

A  painful  and  oppressive  sense  of  loneliness 
and  desolation  came  over  the  minds  of  the 
cousins  as  they  sat  together  at  the  loot  of  the 
pine,  which  cast  its  lengthened  shadow  upon 
the  ijfround  before  them.  The  shades  of  evenin": 
were  shrouding  them,  wrapping  the  lonely  forest 
in  gloom.  The  full  moon  had  not  yet  risen,  and 
they  watched  for  the  first  gleam  that  should 
break  above  the  eastern  hills  to  cheer  them,  as 
for  the  coming  of  a  friend. 

Sadly  these  two  poor  lonely  ones  sat  hand  in 
hand,  talking  of  the  haj)py  days  of  childhood, 
of  the  perplexing  present,  and  the  uncertain  fu- 
ture. At  last,  wearied  out  with  watching  and 
anxiety,  Catharine  leaned  her  head  upon  the 
neck  of  old  Wolfe  and  fell  asleep,  while  Louis 
restlessly  paced  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  sleeper ; 
now  straining  his  eye  to  penetrate  the  surround- 
ing gloom,  now  straining  his  ear  to  catch  the 
first  sound  that  might  indicate  the  approach  of 
his  absent  cousin. 

It  was  almost   with  a  feeling  of  irritabilitj 
15 


m 


»  M' 


I 


t^Q 


n 


rilK   CANADIAN    ClU'SoKS. 


'*■»  II. 
M'fH 


(lint  bo  liPMrd  tli(^  qnick,  sliarp  note  of  tlie 
wiikcfiil  "  whip-poor-will,"  as  she  flew  from 
boufrh  to  bouirh  of  an  old  withered  tree  beside 


1 


nrn. 


AnotluT,    and    aixain    another   o 


►f    tl 


leso 


ini(bii^ht  watchers  took  up  the  monotonous 
iiever-varving  cry  of  "  Whif)-poor-will,  whip- 
poor-will;"  and  then  came  forth,  from  many  a 
hollow  oak  and  birch,  the  spectral  ni^udithawk 
from  hidden  dens,  where  it  had  lain  hushed  in 
silence  all  day,  from  dawn  till  sunset.  Sometitnes 
their  sharp,  hard  wings  almost  swept  his  cheek, 
as  they  wheeled  round  and  round  in  circles, 
first  narrow,  then  wide,  and  wider  extending,  till 
at  last  they  soared  far  above  the  tallest  tree-tops, 
and  launching  out  in  the  high  regions  of  the 
air,  uttered  from  time  to  time  a  wild,  shrill 
scream,  or  hollow  booming  sound,  as  they  sud- 
denly descended  to  pounce  with  wide-extended 
throat  upon  some  hapless  moth  or  insect,  that 
sported  all  unheeding  in  mid  air,  happily  uncon- 
scious of  the  approach  of  so  unerring  a  foe. 

Petulantly  Louis  chid  these  discordant  min- 
strels of  the  night,  and  joyfully  he  hailed  the 
first  gush  of  moonlight  that  rose  broad  and  full 
and  red  over  the  Oak-hills  to  the  eastward. 

Louis  envied  the  condition  of  the  unconscious 
sleeper,  who  l&y  in  happy  forgetfulness  of  all 
her  sorrows,  her  fair  curls  spread  in  unbound 
luxuriance  over  the  dark,  shaofGrv  neck  of  the 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CIU'SOKS. 


171 


of  the 

'    from 

beside 

tlu\so 

toiic^us 

whip- 

naiiy  i\ 

ithawk 

hed  in 

lotitncs 

check, 

circles, 

ing,  till 

3e-tops, 

of  the 

shrill 

y  sud- 

ciuled 

t,  that 

luncon- 

e. 

min- 

d  the 

id  full 

1. 

scions 
of  all 
ound 
f  the 


faithful  Wolfe,  who  seetned  as  if  proud  (»f  tho 
beloved  bnrdiMi  that  rested  so  trustingly  upon 
him.  Sometimes  the  careful  dog  just  unclosed 
his  large  eyes,  raised  his  nose  fi-o!n  his  shaggy 
paws,  snudetl  the  night  air,  growled  in  a  sort  of 
under  tone,  and  dcjsed  again,  but  wati'hfully. 

It  would  be  no  o'd:^y  tas]«:  to  tell  the  painful 
feelings  that  agitated  young  Louis's  breast.  lie 
was  angry  with  Hector  (()r  having  thus  madly, 
as  he  thought,  rushed  into  danger.  "  It  was 
wilful  and  almost  cruel,"  he  thought  "  to  leave 
them  the  prey  of  such  tormenting  fears  on  his 
account;"  and  tlien  the  most  painful  fears  for  the 
safety  of  his  beloved  companion  took  the  place 
of  less  kindly  thoughts,  and  sorrow  filled  his 
heart.  The  broad  moon  now  flooded  the  hills 
and  vales  with  light,  casting  broad,  checkering 
shadows  of  the  old  oaks'  grey  branches  and  now 
reddened  foliage  across  the  ground. 

Suddeidy  the  old  dog  raises  his  head,  and 
utters  a  short  half  angry  note :  slowly  and 
carefully  he  rises,  disengaging  himself  gently 
from  the  form  of  the  sleeping  girl,  and  stands 
forth  in  the  full  light  of  the  moon.  It  is  aa 
open,  cleared  space,  that  mound  beneath  the 
pine-tree;  a  few  low  shrubs  and  seedling  pines, 
with  the  slender  waving  branches  of  the  late- 
flowering  pearly  tinted  asters,  the  elegLmt 
fringed    gentian,    with    open    bells    of    azuru 


'3i 


3 
I 

5 

« 
* 


172 


TIIH    CAXADIAX   CUl'SOES. 


iiii 

*ll  1)1,: 

IE  ^'•■ 

t,tf 


blue,  the  last  and  loveliest  of  the  fall  flovveis  and 
winter-gTeens,  brighten  the  ground  with  wreaths 
of  shilling  leaves  and  red  berries. 

Louis  is  on  the  alert,  thouGfh  as  vet  he  sees 
nothing.  It  is  not  a  full,  free  note  of  welcome 
that  Wolfe  gives ;  there  is  something  uneasy  and 
half  angry  in  liis  tone.  Yet  it  is  not  fierce,  like 
the  bark  of  angiy  defiance  he  gives,  when  wolf, 
or  bear,  or  wolverine  is  near. 

Louis  steps  forward  from  the  shadow  of  the 
pine  branches  to  the  edge  of  the  inclined  plane 
in  tlie  foreground.  The  slow  tread  of  approach- 
ing steps  is  now  distinctly  heard  advancing 
— it  may  be  a  deer.  Two  figures  approach, 
and  Louis  moves  a  little  within  the  shadow 
again.  A  clear,  shrill  whistle  meets  his  ear. 
It  is  Hector's  whistle,  he  knows  that,  and  assured 
by  its  cheerful  tone  he  springs  forward  and  in 
an  instant  is  at  his  side,  but  starts  at  the  strange 
companion  that  he  half  leads,  half  carries.  The 
moonlight  streams  broad  and  bright  upon  tho 
shrinking  figure  of  an  Indian  girl,  apparently 
about  the  ?ame  age  as  Catharine:  her  ashy  face 
is  concealed  by  the  long  masses  of  raven  black 
hair,  which  falls  like  a  dark  veil  over  her 
features;  her  step  is  weak  and  unsteady,  and 
she  seems  ready  to  sink  to  the  earth  with 
sickness  or  fatigue.  Hector,  too,  seems  weary. 
The  first  words  that  Hector  said  were,  "  Help 


THE   CAXADTAX    CHUSOES. 


17S 


adow 
ear. 
ured 
d  in 
^ange 
The 
tho 
ently 
face 
jlack 
her 
and 
with 
eary. 
Help 


me,  Louis,  to  lead  this  ])0or  girl  to  the  foot 
of  tlie  pine;  I  am  so  tired  I  can  hanily  walk 
another  step." 

Louis  and  his  cousin  together  carried  the 
Indian  girl  to  the  foot  of  the  pine.  CathariiK.* 
was  just  rousing  hei'self  from  sleep,  and  sh(3 
gazed  with  a  bewildered  air  on  the  stranu>; 
companion  that  .Hector  had  brought  with  him. 
The  stranger  lay  down,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
sank  into  a  sleep  so  profound  it  seemed  to 
resemble  that  of  death  itself  Pity  and  deep 
interest  soon  took  the  place  of  curiosity  an^l 
dread  in  the  heart  of  ihe  gentle  Catharine,  and 
she  watched  the  young  stranger's  slumber  as 
tenderly  a-s  though  she  had  been  a  sister  or 
beloved  friend,  while  Hector  proceeded  to  relate 
in  what  manner  he  had  encountered  the  Indian 

girl. 

"  When  I  struck  the  high  slope  near  the  little 
birch  grove  we  called  the  '  Birken-^Iiaw/  I 
paused  to  examine  if  the  council  fires  were  still 
burning  on  Bare-hill,  but  there  was  no  smoke 
visible,  neither  was  there  a  canoe  to  be  seen 
at  the  lake  shore  where  Louis  had  described 
their  landing-place  at  the  niouth  of  the  creek. 
All  seemed  as  silent  and  still  as  if  no  human 
footstep  had  trodden  the  shore.  I  sat  down  and 
watched  for  nearly  an  hour  till  my  attention 
was   attracted   by   a   noble   eagle,    which    was 

15* 


I 


174 


TUV:    CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


Ui<   < 

llC'hIII 


1i> 


Bailing  in  wide  circles  over  tlie  tall  pine-trees 
on  Btire-liill.  Assured  that  tlie  Indian  camp 
was  bi'oken  uj),  and  feeling  some  curiosity  to 
examine  the  spot  more  closely,  I  crossed  tlic 
thicket  of  cranberries  and  cedars  and  smnll 
underwood  that  fringed  the  borders  of  the  little 
stream,  and  found  myself,  after  a  little  pushin;.^ 
and  scrambling,  among  the  bushes  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill. 

"1  thought  it  not  impossible  I  might  find 
something  to  repay  me  for  my  trouble — flint 
arrow-heads,  a  knife,  or  a  tomahawk — but  1 
little  thought  of  what  these  cruel  savages  had 
left  there, — a  miserable  wounded  captiv^  bound 
by  the  long  locks  of  her  hair  to  the  stem  of  a 
small  tree,  her  hands,  tied  by  thongs  of  hide  to 
branches  which  they  had  bent  down  to  fasten 
them  to  her  feet,  bound  fast  to  the  same  tree  as 
that  against  which  her  head  was  fastened  ;  her 
position  was  one  that  must  have  been  most 
painful:  she  had  evidently  been  thus  left  to 
perish  by  a  miserable  death,  of  hunger  and 
thirst;  for  these  savages,  with  fiendish  cruelty, 
had  placed  within  sight  of  their  victim  an 
earthen  jar  of  water,  some  dried  deer's  flesh, 
and  a  cob"^  of  Indian  corn.  I  ha^^e  the  corn 
here,"  he  added,  putting  his  hand  in  his  breast, 
and  displaying  it  to  view. 


♦^  A  head  of  the  Maize,  or  ludiau  corn,  is  called  a  "oob. 


» 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


"1  ^^  " 


;ft  to 


m    an 

flesh, 

COJ'l] 

'  roast, 


"Wounded  she   was,  for  I  drew  tliis  arrow 
from  her  shoulder,"   and  he  showed  the   flint 
head  as  he  spoke,  "and  fettered;  with  ?(K)(\  pau\ 
drink  in  siglit,  the  pocjr  girl  was  to  perisli    per 
ha})s  to  become  a  living  prey  to  the  wolf  am) 
the  eagle  that  I  saw  wheeling  above  the  hill 
top.     The    poor   thing's   lij)s    were   black   anc 
parched  with   pain  and  thirst;  she  turned   he: 
eyes  piteously  from  my  face  to  the  water  j.ir  sa 
if  to  implore  a  draught.     This  I  gave  her,  anc 
then  havinf!*  cooled  the  festerinii;  wound,  and  cu^ 
the  thongs  that  bound  her,  I  wondered  that  sh( 
still    kept    the   same  immovable  attitude,   an<. 
thinking  she  was  stitF  and  cramped  with  re 
maining  so  long  bound  in  one  position,  I  too' 
her  two  hands  and  tried  to  induce  her  to  mov   . 
I  then  for  the  first  time  noticed  that  she  y^m 
tied  by  the  hair  of  her  head  to  the  tree  agUKst 
which  her  back  was  placed;  I  was  obliged  to 
cut  the  hair  with  my  knife,  and  this  I  did  not 
do   without   giving   her   pain,   as  she   moaned 
impatiently.     She  sunk  her  head  on  her  breast, 
and  large  tears  fell  over  my  hands  as  I  bathed 
her  face  and  neck  with  the  water  from  the  jar ; 
she  then  seated  herself  on  the  ground,  and  re- 
mained silent  and  still  for  the  space  of  an  hour, 
nor  could  T  prevail  upon  her  to  speak,  or  quit 
the  seat  she  had  taken.     Fearing  that  the  In- 
dians mioht  return,  I  watched  in  all  directions. 


mil 


A 


176 


THE   CAXADTAX  CRUSOEP. 


iW'iiii,. 
»!  "Ill 


ill. 


and  at  last  I  began  to  think  it  would  be  best 
to  carry  her  in  my  arms ;  but  this  I  found  no 
easy  task,  for  she  seemed  greatly  distressed  at 
any  attempt  I  made  to  lift  her,  and  by  her  ges- 
tures I  fancy  she  thought  I  was  going  to  kill 
her.  At  last  my  patience  began  to  be  exhausted, 
but  I  did  not  like  to  annoy  her.  I  spoke  to 
ber  as  gently  and  soothingly  as  I  could.  By  de- 
grees she  seemed  to  listen  with  more  composure 
to  me,  though  she  evidently  knew  not  a  word 
of  what  I  said  to  her.  She  rose  at  last,  and 
taking  my  hands,  placed  them  above  her  head, 
stooping  low  as  she  did  so,  and  this  seemed  to 
mean,  she  was  willing  at  last  to  submit  to  my 
wishes;  I  lifted  her  from  the  ground,  and  carried 
her  for  some  little  way,  but  she  was  too  heavy 
for  me, — she  then  suffered  me  to  lead  her  along 
whithersoever  I  would  take  her,  but  her  steps 
were  so  slow  and  feeble,  through  weakness,  that 
many  times  I  was  compelled  to  rest  while  she 
recovered  herself.  She  seems  quite  subdued 
DOW,  and  as  quiet  as  a  lamb." 

Catharine  listened,  not  without  tears  of  genuine 
sympathy,  to  the  recital  of  her  brother's  adven- 
tures. She  seemed  to  think  he  had  been  in- 
spired by  God  to  go  forth  that  day  to  the  Indian 
camp,  to  rescue  the  poor  forlorn  ore  from  so 
dreadful  a  death. 

Louis's  sympathy  was  also  warmly  aroused 


fo 

fo 


W( 

th( 


THE   CANADIAN   CRL'SOES. 


177 


be  l)est 
ind  no 
^sed  at 
or  ges- 
to  kill 
austed, 
>oke  to 
By  de- 
iposure 
a  word 
.st,  and 
T  head, 
!med  to 
t  to  my 
carried 
heavy 
|r  along 
r  steps 
ss,  that 
ile  she 
bdued 

lenuine 
idven- 

ten  in- 
"ndian 

|om  so 

roused 


for  the  yonng  savage,  and  he  commended  Hector 
for  his  bravery  and  luimanity. 

He  then  S(^t  to  work  to  light  a  good  fire, 
which  was  a  great  addition  to  their  comfort  as 
well  as  cheorrulness.  Thev  did  not  s:o  back  to 
their  cave  beneath  the  upturned  trees,  to  sleep, 
preferring  lying,  with  their  feet  to  the  fire,  under 
the  shade  of  tlie  [)ine.  Louis,  however,  was 
despatched  fov  water  and  venison  for  supper. 

The  following  morning,  b\^  break  of  day,  they 
collected  their  stores,  and  conveyed  them  back 
CO  the  shanty.  'Plic  boj^s  were  thus  employed, 
while  Catharine  watched  beside  the  wounded 
Indian  girl,  wln^ni  she  tended  with  the  greatest 
care.  She  bathed  the  inflamed  arm  with  water, 
and  bound  the  cool,  healing  leaves  of  the 
taca/nahac^  about  it  with  the  last  fraiiment  of  her 
apron  ;  she  ste(>ped  di-ied  berries  in  water,  and 
gave  the  cooling  diink  to  quench  the  fever- 
thirst  that  burned  in  hei'  veins  and  glittered  in 
her  full,  soft  melancholy  dark  eyes,  which  were 
raised  at  intervals  to  the  face  of  her  youthful 
nurse,  with  a  timid  hurried  glance,  as  if  she 
lonojed,  yet  feared  to  sav,  "  W  ho  are  vou  that 
thus  tenderly  batne  my  aching  head,  and  strive 
to  sooth  my  wounded  limbs,  and  cool  my  fevered 
blood  ?  Are  you  a  creature  like  myself,  or  a 
being  sent  by  the  Great  Spirit,  from  the  far-cff 

*  ludiaii  biilsanu 


iiilt' 


\  .     '^ 


,  1 


178 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


g|.'iii!;>). 


happy  land  to  which  my  fathers  have  gone,  to 
smooth  my  path  of  pain,  and  lead  me  to  those 
blessed  fields  of  sunbeams  and  flowers  where 
the  cruelty  of  the  enemies  of  my  people  will  no 
more  have  power  to  torment  me  ?" 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


179 


CHAPTER   VI. 


"  Here  the  wren  of  softest  note 

BuikU  its  nest  and  warbles  well ; 
Here  the  blackbird  strains  its  throat ; 
Welcome,  welcome  to  our  cell." — Coleridge, 

''pHE  day  was  far  advanced  before  the  sick 
-^  Indian  girl  could  be  brought  home  to 
their  sylvan  lodge,  where  Catharine  made  up  a 
comfortable  couch  for  her,  with  boughs  and 
grass,  and  spread  one  of  the  deer-skins  over  it, 
and  laid  her  down  as  tenderly  and  carefully  as 
if  she  had  been  a  dear  sister.  This'good  girl  was 
overjoyed  at  having  found  a  companion  of  her 
own  age  and  sex.  "  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  shall  no 
more  be  lonely,  I  shall  have  a  companion  and 
friend  to  talk  to  and  assist  me ;"  but  when  she 
turned  in  the  fulness  of  her^  heart  to  address 
herself  to  t^e  young  stranger,  she  felt  herself 
embarrassed  in  what  way  to  make  her  com- 
prehend the  words  she  used  to  express  the  kind- 
ness that  she  felt  for  her,  and  her  sorrow  for 
her  sufferings. 

The  young  stranger  would  raise  her  head, 
look  intently  at  her,  as  if  striving  to  interpret 
her  words,  then  sadly  shake  her  head,  and  utter 


•a 


•VI 


*#" 


I 
) 


* 


180 


THE   CANADIAN   CRI'SOES. 


her  words  in  her  own  plaintive  language,  but, 
alas!  Catharine  felt  it  was  to  her  as  a  sealed 
book. 

She  tried  to  recall  some  Indian  words  of 
familiar  import,  that  she  had  heard  from  the 
Indians  when  they  came  to  her  father's  house, 
but  in  vain  ;  not  the  simplest  phrase  occurred 
to  her,  and  she  almost  cried  with  vexation  at 
her  own  stupidity  ;  neither  was  Hector  or  Louis 
more  fortunate  in  attempts  at  (conversing  with 
their  guest. 

At  the  end  of  three  davs  the  fever  be^an  to 
abate,  the  restless  eye  grew  more  steady  in  its 
gaze,  the  dark  flush  faded  from  the  cheek, 
leaving  it  of  a  grey  ashy  tint,  not  the  hue  of 
health,  such  as  even  the  swarthy  Indian  shows, 
but  wan  and  pallid,  her  eyes  bent  mournfully  on 
the  ground. 

She  would  sit  quiet  and  passive  while 
Catharine  bound  up  the  long  tresses  of  her 
hair,  and  smoothed  them  with  her  hands  and 
the  small  wooden  comb  that  Louis  had  cut  for 
her  use.  Sometimes  she  would  raise  her  eves 
to  her  new  friend's  face,  with  a  quiet  sad  smile, 
and  once  she  took  her  hands  within  her  own, 
and  gently  pressed  them  to  her  breast  and  lips 
and  forehead  in  token  of  gratitude,  but  she 
seldom  gave  utterance  to  any  words^  and  would 
remain  with  her  eyes  fixed  vacantly  on  some 


THK    CANADIAN    CRL'SOES. 


181 


?e,  but, 
.  sealed 

)rds  of 
om  the 
3  house, 
ccurred 
ition  at 
)r  Louis 
ig  with 

>effan  to 

y  in  its 

cheek, 

hue  of 

shows, 

iilly  on 


o] 


while 
f  her 
3  and 
cut  for 
r  eyes 
smile, 
r  own, 
1  lips 
Lit    she 
would 
some 


object  which  seemed  unseen  or  to  awaken  no 
idea  in  her  mind.  At  such  times  the  face  of 
the  young  squaw  wore  a  dreamy  apathy  of 
expression,  or  rathpr  it  might  with  more  pro- 
priety have  been  said,  the  absence  of  all  ex- 
pression, almost  as  blank  as  that  of  an  infant 
of  a  few  weeks  old. 

How  intently  did  Catharine  study  that  face, 
and  strive  to  read  what  was  passing  within  her 
mind!  how  did  the  lively  intelligent  Canadian 
girl,  the  offspring  of  a  more  intellectual  race, 
lomr  to  instruct  her  Indian  friend,  to  enlaroje  her 
mind,  by  pointing  out  such  things  to  her 
attention  as  she  herself  took  interest  in !  She 
would  then  repeat  the  name  of  the  object  that 
she  showed  her  several  times  over,  and  by 
degrees  the  young  squaw  learned  the  names  of 
all  the  familiar  household  articles  about  the 
shanty,  and  could  repeat  them  in  her  own  soft 
plaintive  tone;  and  wheli  she  had  learned  a  new 
word,  and  could  pronounce  it  distinctly,  she 
would  laugh,  and  a  gleam  of  innocent  joy  and 
pleasure  would  lighten  up  her  fine  dark  eyes, 
generally  so  fixed  and  sad-looking. 

It  was  Catharine's  delight  to  teach  her  pupil 

to  speak  a  language  familiar  to  her  own  ears ; 

she  would  lead  her  out  among  the  trees,  and 

lame  to   her  all  the  natural  objects  that  pre 

ented  themselves  to  view.    And  she  in  her  turij 

16 


1 

1 1'i 


« 


182 


THK   CANADIAN   CKUSOKS. 


■Nil. ,! . 

9'rm 
•mi. ..  > 

!,■■■■ 

I     - 


nijule  "  IncliaiKi"  (for  so  they  luinieJ  the  young 
Bquavv,  after  a  iiegress  tliat  sh(3  bad  hcai'd  her 
father  tell  of,  a  nurse  to  one  of  his  ct)lonel's  in- 
fant children)  tell  her    the  Indian    names  for 
each  object  they  saw.     Indiana  soon  began  to 
enjoy  in  her  turn  the  amusement  arising  from 
instructing  Cathariue  and  the  boys,  and  often 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  blunders  they  made  in  pro- 
nouncing the  words  she  taught  them.     When 
really  interested  in  any  thing  that  was  going  on, 
her  eyes  would  beam  out,  and  her  smile  give  an 
inexpressible  charm  to  her  face,  for  her  lips  were 
red  and  her  teeth  even   and  brilliantly  white, 
so  purely  white  that  Catharine  thought  she  had 
never  seen  anv  so  beautiful  in  her  life  before ; 
at  such  times  her  face  was  joyous  and  innocent 
as  a  little  child's ;  but  there  were  also  hours  of 
gloom,  that  transformed  it  into  an  expression  of 
sullen  apathy ;    then  a  dull  glassy  look  took 
possession  of  her  eye,  the  full  lip  drooped  and 
the  form  seemed  rigid  and  stiff;  obstinate  deter- 
mination neither  to  move  nor  speak  characterized 
her  in  what  Louis  used  to  call  the  young  squaw's 
'*dark   hour.^'     Then    it  was   that   the   savage 
nature    seemed    predominant,   and   her  gentle 
nurse  almost  feared  to  look  at  Ijer  protegee  or 
approach  her. 

"  Hector,"  said  Louis,  "  you  spoke  about  a  jai 
of  water  being  left  at  the  camp;  the  jar  would 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


183 


be  a  great  treasure  to  us,  let  us  go  over  for  it " 
Uector  assented  to  tlie  proposal.  "  And  we 
may  possibly  pick  up  a  few  grains  of  Indian 
corn,  to  add  to  what  you  showed  us." 

"  If  we  are  here  in  the  spring,"  said  Hector, 
"you  and  I  will  prepare  a  small  patch  of  ground 
and  plant  it  with  this  corn;"  and  he  sat  down 
on  the  end  of  a  log  and  began  carefully  to  count 
the  rows  of  grain  on  the  cob,  and  then  each 
corn  grain  by  grain.  "  Three  hundred  and  ten 
sound  grains.  Now  if  every  one  of  these  pro- 
duces a  strong  plant,  we  shall  have  a  great  in- 
crease, and  besides  seed  for  another  year,  there 
will  be,  if  it  is  a  good  year,  several  bushels  to 


eat. 


n 


"  We  shall  have  a  glorious  summer,  mon  ami, 
no  doubt,  and  a  fine  flourishing  crop,  and  Kate 
is  a  good  hand  at  making  supporne."* 
"  You  forget  we  have  no  porridge  pot." 
"  I  was  thinking  of  that  Indian  jar  all  the 
time.  You  will  see  what  fine  cookery  we  will 
make  when  we  get  it,  if  it  will  but  stand  fire. 
Come,  let  us  be  off,  I  am  impatient  till  we  get  it 
home  ;"  and  Louis,  who  had  now  a  new  crotchet 
at  work  in  his  vivacious  brain,  was  quite  on 
the  qui  vlve^  and  walked  and  danced  along  at  a 

*  Supporne,  probably  an  Indian  word  for  a  stirabout,  or 
porridge,  made  of  Indian  meal,  a  common  dish  in  every  Conft- 
dlan  or  Yankee  turunr's  house. 


« 


"^ 


.,>-,- 


■  ''■  .1 


*'1 

■J 


] 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1:^128     |2.5 
Ui  1^    |2.2 


140 


12.0 


|i.25    |U    ||,.6 

< 

6"     

► 

Hiotographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M5S0 

(716)  S72-4503 


o 


1^ 


^\ 


184 


THK   CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


t  ■  *' 

P'tk  .if 

f  ■*  I'. 

J 


rate   vliii-li    })r()V(Ml  a  <j:r(\it  disturbance  to  liin 
graver  couipaiiion,  who  tri(;(l  to  kcej)  down  lii?i 
cousin's  lively  spirits  bv  suL:-gestin<^  the  proba- 
bility of  tlu.'  jar  being  cracked,  or  that  the  In- 
dians might  have  i\>turii(Ml  loi-  it;  but  Louis  was 
not  one  of  the   douhling  sort,  and    liOtiis   was 
right  in  not  damping  the  ardour  of  his  mind  by 
causeless   leai's      The    jar  was  there  at  the  de- 
serted  camp,  and  though   it  had   l)een  knocked 
over  by  some  animal,  it  was  sound  and  strong, 
and  excited  great  speculation  in  the  two  cousins 
as  to  the  particular  material   of  which  it  was 
made,  as  it  was  uidike  any  sort  of  pottery  they 
had  ever  before  seen.     It  seemed  to  have  been 
manufactured  from  some  vary  dark  red  earth,  or 
clay  mixed  up  with  pounded  granite,  as  it  pre- 
sented the  ap[)earance  of  some  coarse  crystals; 
it  was  very  hard  and  ponderous,  and  the  surface 
was  marked  over  in  a  rude  sort  of  pattern  as  if 
punctured  and  scratched  with  some  pointed  in- 
strument.    It  seemed  to  have  been  hardened  by 
fire,  and,  from  the  smoked  hue  of  one  side,  had 
evidently  done  good  service  as  a  cooking  uten- 
sil.    Subsequently    they    learned    the    way    in 
which  it  was  used  :*   the  jar  being  placed  near 

♦  Pieces  of  this  rude  pottery  are  often  found  along  the 
slnres  of  the  inland  hikes,  but  I  have  never  met  with  any  of 
tho  perfect  Vbasels  in  use  with  the  Indians,  wiio  probably  find 
it  now  easier  to  supply  tlietnselves  with  iron  pots  and  crockeij 
from  tlie  towns  of  the  European  settlers. 


SI 

bi 

sJ 
c<! 


THE   CAXADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


ISo 


ce  to  lii.s 

down  liin 

10  probu- 

t  the  In- 

iOLiis  was 

311  is   Was 

mi  lid  by 

i  the  (le- 

kiiook'cd 

I  stroiiir, 

)  cousins 

1  it  was 

ery  tliey 

ive  been 

parth,  or 

s  it  pre- 

rystals; 

surface 

•n  as  if 

ited  in- 

ned  by 

e,  had 

<  Liten- 

av    i  n 

d  near 

long  the 
|i  any  of 
ibly  find 
l:rockei7 


bat  not  on  the  fire,  was  surrounded  bv  hot  em- 
bers,  and  the  water  made  to  boil  by  stones  being 
made  red  hot  and  phmged  into  it:  in  this  way 
soup  and  other  food  were  pre[)ared,  and  kept 
stewin.Li",  with  no  further  trou])le  after  once  the 
simmering  began  than  adding  a  few  fresh  em- 
bers at  the  sidii  furthest  from  the  lire  ;  a  hot 
stone  also  j)laeed  on  the  top,  facilitated  the 
cooking  process. 

Louis,  who  like  all  French  people  was  addict- 
ed to  cookery, — indeed,  it  was  an  accomplish- 
ment he  prided  himself  on, — was  enchanted 
with  the  improvement  made  in  the  diet  by  the 
acquisition  of  the  said  earthen  jar  or  pipkin, 
and  gave  Indiana  some  praise  for  initiating  his 
cousin  in  the  use  of  it.  Catharine  and  Hector 
declared  that  he  went  out  with  his  bow  and 
arrows,  and  visited  his  dead-falls  and  snares  ten 
times  often er  than  he  used  to  do,  just  for  the 
sake  of  proving  the  admirable  properties  of  this 
precious  utensil,  and  finding  out  some  new  way 
of  dressing  his  game. 

At  all  events  there  was  a  valuable  increase  of 
furs,  for  making  up  into  clothing,  caps,  leggings, 
mitts,  and  other  articles. 

From  the  Indian  girl,  Catharine  learned  the 

value  of  many  of  the  herbs  and  shrubs   that 

grew  in  her  path,  the  bark  and  leaves  of  various 

trees,  and  many  dyes  she  could  extract,    ;vitb 

16* 


"    f 


H 
.1 
I 

1 
»» 
a 


186 


THE   CANADIAN   ClUrSOPX 


"mull!  I 

f    ' 

9"   ■ 


{ 


"#•1 


lii' 


^i'^ 


\i,         ,  ,  I;  J 


which  she  stained  the  quills  of  the  porcupine 
and  the  strips  of  the  wood  of  which  she  made 
baskets  and  mats.  The  little  creeping  winter- 
green,^  with  its  scarlet  berries,  that  grows  on 
the  dry  flats  or  sandy  hills,  which  the  Canadianii 
call  spice-berry,  she  showed  them  was  good  to 
eat,  and  she  would  crush  the  leaves,  draw  forth 
their  fine  aromatic  flavour  in  her  hands,  and  then 
inhale  their  fragrance  with  delight.  She  made 
an  infusion  of  the  leaves,  and  drank  it  as  a 
tonic.  The  inner  bark  of  the  wild  black  cherry 
she  said  was  good  to  cure  ague  and  fever.  The 
root  of  the  dulf^amara,  or  bitter-sweet,  she  scraped 
down  and  boiled  in  the  deer-fat,  or  the  fat  of 
any  other  animal,  and  made  an  ointment  that 
possessed  very  healing  qualities,  especially  as 
an  immediate  application  to  fresh  burns. 

Sometimes  she  showed  a  disposition  to  mys- 
tery, and  would  conceal  the  knowledge  of  the 
particular  herbs  she  made  use  of ;  and  Catharine 
uoveral  times  noticed  that  she  would  go  out  and 
sprinkle  a  portion  of  the  food  she  had  assisted 
her  in  preparing,  on  the  earth,  or  under  some 
of  the  trees  or  bushes.  When  she  was  more 
familiar  with  their  language,  she  told  Catharine 
this  was  done  in  token  of  gratitude  to  the  Good 
Spirit,  who  had  given  them  success  in  hunting 
or  tra])ping ;  or  else  it  was  to  appease  the  malice 

*  (JuaWieria  proeumbenSf — Spice  Winter-green- 


THE   CAXADTAN   CRUSOES. 


is> 


of  tlio  Evil  Spirit,  who  might  bring  mischiffor 
loss  to  thcin,  or  sickness  or  death,  unless  his  for- 
bearance was  purciiaseJ  by  some  particular  mark 
of  attention.* 

Attention,  memory,  and  imitation  appeared 
to  form  the  three  most  remarkable  of  the  men- 
tal faculties  developed  by  the  Indian  girl.  She 
examined  (when  once  her  attention  was  roused) 
any  object  with  critical  minuteness.  Any  knowl- 
edge she  had  once  acquired  she  retained  ;  her 
memory  was  great,  she  never  missed  a  path  she 
had  once  trodden ;  she  seemed  even  to  single 
out  particular  birds  in  a  flock,  to  know  them 
from  their  congeners.  Her  powers  of  imitation 
were  also  great ;  she  brought  patience  and  perse- 
verance to  assist  her,  and  when  once  thoroughly 
interested  in  any  work  she  began,  she  would 
toil  on  untiringly  till  it  was  completed  ;  and  then 
■what  triumph  shone  in  her  eyes !  At  such  times 
they  became  darkly  brilliant  with  the  joy  that 
filled  her  heart.     But  she  possessed  little  talent 


"^ 


,j* 


I 


*  By  the  testimony  of  many  of  the  Indiana  themselves,  tlicy 
appear  to  entertain  a  eertain  Polytheism  in  their  belief.  "  W^o 
l)elieveil  in  one  orreat,  wise,  benevolent  bein?,  Tlieshu-mon-e- 
doo,  whiiso  dwcllini^  was  in  the  sun.  We  believed  also  in  many 
othei'  lesser  spirits — gods  of  the  elements,  and  in  one  bad,  unap- 
peasable spirit,  Mah-je-mah-ne-doo,  to  whom  we  attributed  bad 
luck,  evil  accidents,  and  sickness  and  <leath.  Tliis  bad  spirit  has 
to  be  conciliated  with  meat  and  drink  otferings." — Li/eo/  Georfft 
iJopwxy. 


ISS 


THK   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


•'it  J. 


fur  iiiv('iiti(;n  ;  wliat  bad  she  seen  done,  after  a 
few  imperfect  attempts,  she  could  do  again,  but 
she  rarely  struck  out  any  new  path  for  herself 

At  times  she  was  docile  and  even  playful,  and 
appeared  grateful  for  the  kindness  with  which 
she  was  treated ;  each  day  seemed  to  increase 
her  fondness  for  Catharine,  and  she  appeared  to 
delight  in  doing  any  little  service  to  please  and 
gratify  her,  but  it  was  towards  Ilector  that  she 
displayed  tlie  deepest  feeling  of  affection  and 
respect.  It  was  to  him  her  first  tribute  of  fruit 
or  flowers,  furs,  mocassins,  or  ornamental  plu- 
mage of  rare  birds  was  offered.  She  seemed  to 
turn  to  iiim  as  to  a  master  and  protector.  He 
was  in  her  eyes  the  '^C/iuif,"  the  head  of  his 
tribe.  His  bow  was  strung  by  her,  and  stained 
with  quaint  figures  and  devices;  his  arrows 
were  carved  by  her  ;  the  sheath  of  deer-skin 
was  made  and  ornamented  by  her  hands,  that 
he  carried  his  knife  in  ;  and  the  case  for  his 
arrows,  of  birch-bark,  was  wrought  with  especial 
neatness,  and  suspended  by  thongs  to  his  neck, 
when  he  was  preparing  to  go  out  in  search  of 
game.  She  gave  hiin  the  name  of  the  "Young 
Eagle."  While  she  called  Louis,  "  ISTee-chee," 
or  friend  ;  to  Catharine  she  gave  the  poetical 
name  of  "  Music  of  tlie  Winds," — Ma-wah-osh. 

When  they  asked  her  to  tell  them  her  own 
name,  she  would  bend  down  her  head  in  sorrow 


THE   CANADIAN    CIirSOES. 


189 


and  refuse  to  pronounce  it.  She  soon  answered 
to  the  name  of  Indiana,  and  seemed  })leased 
with  the  sound. 

But  of  all  the  household,  xw.xt  to  Ileetor,  old 
Wol.l'  was  the  greatest  favourite.  At  first,  it  is 
true,  the  old  dog  regarded  the  new  inmate  with 
a  jealous  eye,  and  seemi-d  uneasy  when  he  saw 
her  approach  to  caress  him,  but  Indiana  soon 
reconciled  him  to  her  person,  and  mutual 
friendly  feeling  became  established  between 
them,  which  seemed  daily  and  hourly  to  in- 
crease, greatly  to  the  delight  of  the  young 
stranger.  She  would  seat  herself  Kastern  fash- 
ion, crossdegged  on  the  floor  of  the  shanty,  with 
the  capacious  head  of  the  old  dog  in  her  lap, 
and  address  herself  to  this  mute  companion  in 
wailing  tones,  as  if  she  would  unburden  her 
heart  by  pouring  into  his  unconscious  ear  her 
tale  of  desolation  and  woe. 

Catharine  was  always  very  particular  and 
punctual  in  performing  her  personal  ablutions, 
and  she  intimated  to  Indiana  that  it  was  good 
for  her  to  do  the  same ;  but  the  young  girl 
seemed  reluctant  to  follow  her  example,  till 
daily  custom  had  reconciled  her  to  what  she  ev- 
idently at  first  regarded  as  an  unnecessary  cere- 
mony ;  but  she  soon  took  pleasure  in  dressing 
her  dark  hair,  and  suffering  Catharine  to  braid 
A^  and  polish  it  till  it,  looked  glossy  and  soft. 


'Iff. 


It 


\ 


1 


J 

M 

] 


190 


rUK   CANADfAN   CHTSOKS. 


C 


'IIH 


Indiana  in  her  turn  would  adorn  Catharine  with 
the  wings  of  tlic  blue-bird  or  red-bird,  the  crest 
of  the  wood-duck,  or  quill  feathers  of  the 
golden-winged  flicker,  which  is  called  in  the 
Indian  tongue  the  shot-bird,  in  allusion  to  the 
round  spots  on  its  cream-coloured  breast.*  But 
it  was  not  in  these  things  alone  she  showed  her 
grateful  sense  of  the  sisterly  kindness  that  her 
young  hostess  showed  to  her ;  she  soon  learned 
to  lighten  her  labours  in  every  household  work, 
and  above  all,  she  spent  her  time  most  usefully 
in  manufacturing  clothing  from  the  skins  of  the 
wild  animals,  and  in  teaching  Catharine  how  to 
fit  and  prepare  them.  But  these  were  the  occu- 
pation of  the  winter  months.  I  must  not  fore- 
stall my  narrative. 

*  The  Golden-winged  Flicker  belongs  to  a  Bub-genus  of 
woodpccUcrs  ;  it  is  very  handsome,  and  is  said  to  be  catabl  3 ;  it 
lives  on  fruits  and  insects. 


THE   CANADIAN   CRl  80ES. 


191 


ine  with 
Llic  crest 

of  tho 
i  in  the 
1  to  the 
.*  Hut 
wed  her 
:hat  her 
learned 
d  work, 
usefully 
s  of  the 

how  to 
le  occu- 
ot  fore- 


genus   of 
atabla;  it 


CHAPTER    VII. 


"  Go  to  the  ant." — Proierbs. 


I 


T  was  now  the  middle 


weather,   which   had 


f  September, 
continued  serene 


Th« 


an( 


beautiful  for  some  time,  with  dewy  nights  and 
misty  mornings,  began  to  show  symptoms  of 
the  change  of  season  usual  at  the  approach  of 
the  equinox.  Sudden  squalls  of  wind,  with 
hasty  showers,  would  come  sweeping  over  the 
lake ;  the  nights  and  mornings  were  damp  and 
chilly.  Already  the  tints  of  autumn  were  be- 
ginning to  crimson  the  foliage  of  the  oaks,  and 
wJiere  the  islands  were  visible,  the  splendid  col- 
ours of  the  maple  shone  out  in  gorgeous  con- 
trast V.  t.h  the  deep  verdure  of  the  evergreens 
and  light  golden-yellow  of  the  poplar;  but 
lovely  as  they  now  looked,  they  had  not  yet 
reached  the  meridian  of  their  beauty,  which  a 
few  frosty  nights  at  the  close  of  the  month  was 
destined  to  bring  to  perfection — a  glow  of  splen- 
dour to  gladden  the  eye  for  a  brief  space,  before 
the  rushing  winds  and  rains  of  the  following 
month  were  to  sweep  them  away,  and  scatter 
them  abroad  upon  the  earth. 
One  morning,  just  after  a  night  of  heavy  rain 


.:3 


'*1 


H 
•I 
1 

1 

1 
a 


) 


19-2 


IIIK    v'ANADIAN    Clil'SOES. 


C 


»»!.' 


I 


.'md  wind,  tlif  two  boys  wont  down  to  see  if  the 
Ijikc  was  calm  ciioiigli  lortryin,L(  tlio  raft,  which 
liouis  had  tiiiislu'd  hiTore  the  corniiii^  on  of  tho 
l);id  wt-alhcr.  The  water  was  roULdi  and  crested 
with  niiiiiie  waves,  antl  tliey  I'elt  not  disposed 
to  hiiinch  the  i-af't  on  so  stormy  a  surface,  but 
they  stood  lookini*  out  over  the  hd<c  and 
adtniring  th(!  ehauLdng  loUaufe,  when  Hector 
pointed  out  to  his  cousin  a  (hirk  speek  dancing 
on  the  waters,  l)etween  the  two  nearest  islands. 
^I'he  wind,  whi(;h  blew  very  strong  still  from 
the  north-east,  brought  the  object  nearer  every 
minute.  At  first  they  thought  it  might  be  a 
pine-braneh  that  was  floating  on  the  surface, 
when  as  it  came  bounding  over  the  waves,  they 
perceived  that  it  was  a  birch-canoe,  but  impelled 
by  no  visible  arm.  Jt  was  a  strange  sight  upon 
that  lonely  lake  to  see  a  vessel  of  any  kind 
alloat,  and,  on  first  deciding  that  it  was  a  canoe, 
the  boys  were  inclined  to  hide  themselves  among 
the  bushes,  for  fear  of  the  Indians,  but  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  their  fears. 

"  The  owner  of  yonder  little  craft  is  either 
asleep  or  absent  from  her;  for  I  see  no  paddle, 
and  it  is  evidently  drifting  without  any  one  to 
guide  it,"  said  Hector,  after  intently  watching 
the  progress  of  the  tempest-driven  vessel.  As- 
sured as  it  aj)proached  nearer  that  such  was  the 
♦^ase,  they  hurried  to  the  beach  just  as  a  fresh 


TllK    CANADIAN    C'liLsiUW. 


193 


gust  luiJ  l()(l;/(ul  the  cuiiue  aMioi)«^  the  branehea 
of  ii  I'alleii  eerhir  which  projected  out  some  way 
iiir."  th«>  water. 

IJy  ci'eepiiig  aloiii^  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and 
trusting  at  times  to  tlu;  pnjjecting  boughs,  l^ouis, 
VN  ho  was  tlie  most  active  and  the  lightest  ol' 
weight,  succeeded  in  getting  within  reach  of  tiio 
oanoe,  and  witii  some  trouble  and  the  lu^lp  of  a 


rftOUt     li 


•h   that   Hector  handed  to   h 


h 


Dut  hranen  that  J  lector  nandecl  to  iiim,  ne 
^onti'ived  to  moor  her  in  salety  on  tiie  shore, 
taking  the  precaution  of  hauling  her  well  up  on 
the  shiuL^-le,  lest  thi;  wind  and  water  should  set 
her  afloat  again.  '*  llec,  thei'c  is  something  in 
this  canoe  the  sight  of  wdiich  will  gladden  your 
heart,"  ci-ied  Jjouis,  with  a  joyi'ul  look.  '*  Come 
tpiickly,  and  see  my  treasures." 

"Treasures!  You  ma v^  well  call  them  trea- 
sures,"  exclaimed  llectoi',  as  he  helped  Louis  to 
examine  the  contents  oC  the  canoe  and  place 
them  on  the  shore,  side  by  side. 

The  bo3s  could  hardly  lind  words  to  express 
their  joy  and  surprise  at  the  discovery  of  a  large 
jar  oi'  parched  rice,  a  tomahawk,  an  Indian 
blanket  almost  as  good  as  new,  a  large  mat 
rolled  U})  with  a  bass  bark  rope  several  yards 
in  length  wound  round  it,  and,  what  was  more 
precious  than  all,  an  iron  threedegged  pot  in 
which  was  a  quantity  of  Indian  com.  These 
articles  had  evidently  constituted  the  stores  of 
17 


^ 


i3 


\ 


194 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


C 


some  Indian  liuntcr  or  trMi>|)(.'r;  possibly  cIk^ 
caiioo  liad  l)('(Mi  iiiiperlcctly  sociiriMl  and  liuU 
driftcMl  from  its  moorings  dinMn.i^  tho  ^'alo  of  the 
previous  iii^dit,  iniK'ss  by  soinc^  awi<l(Mit  tlio 
owner  liad  lallcn  into  the  lake  and  been  (b'owned. 
This  was  of  course  only  a  matter  of  conjcoturo 
on  which  it  was  useless  to  speculate;  and  tho 
boys  joyfully  took  possession  of  the  good  for- 
tune that  had  so  providentially  been  wafted,  as 
it  were,  to  their  very  feet. 

"It  was  a  capital  chance  for  us,  that  old 
cedar  having  been  blown  ilown  last  night  just 
where  it  was,"  said  Louis ;  "  for  if  the  canoe 
Inul  not  been  drawn  into  the  eddy,  and  stopptnl 
by  the  branches,  we  might  have  lost  it.  I  trem- 
bled when  [saw  the  wind  driving  it  on  so  rap- 
idly that  it  would  founder  in  the  deep  water, 
or  go  olf  to  Long  Island." 

*'  I  think  we  should  have  got  it  at  Pine-tree 
Point,"  said  Hector,  "but  I  am  glad  it  was 
lodged  so  cleverl}^  among  the  cedar  boughs.  I 
was  half  afraid  you  would  have  fallen  in  once 
or  twice,  when  you  were  trying  to  draw  it  nearer 
to  the  shore." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  my  friend ;  I  can  cling 
like  a  wild  cat  when  I  climb.  But  what  a 
grand  i)ot  1  What  delightful  soups,  and  stews, 
and  boils,  Catharine  will  make!  Hurrah!"  and 
Louis  tossed  up  his  new  fur  cap,  that  he  had 


TTTK   CANNDIAN'   CRt'SOES. 


195 


marlo  with  groat  skill  from  an  entire  fox-skin 
in  the  air,  and  cut  sundry  fantnstic  capers  which 
Hector  jiravcly  condcnmcil  as  unlu'coinin^  his 
mature  agt»;  (Louis  was  turnc(l  of  lillcen  ;)  but 
with  tlic  joyous  sj»irit  of  a  little  child  he 
sung,  and  danced,  ami  laughed  and  shouted,  till 
the  lonely  echoes  of  xlui  islands  and  far-ofT  hills 
returiKNl  the  unusual  sound,  and  even  his  more 
fileady  cousin  caught  the  itii'ection,  and  laughed 
to  see  Louis  so  elated. 

Leaving  Hector  t(^  guard  the  prize,  Louis  ran 
gayly  off  to  fetch  Catharine  to  share  his  joy,  and 
come  and  a{bnire  the  canoe,  and  the  blanket,  and 
the  tripod,  and  the  corn,  and  the  tomahawk. 
Indiana  accompanied  them  to  the  lake  shore, 
and  long  and  carefully  she  examined  the  canoe 
and  its  contents,  and  many  were  the  plaintive 
exclamations  she  uttered,  as  she  surveyed  the 
things  ]nece  by  piece,  till  she  took  notice  of  the 
broken  handle  of  an  Indian  paddle  which  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  the  vessel.  This  seemed  to 
afford  some  solution  to  her  of  the  mystery,  and 
by  broken  words  and  signs  she  intimated  that 
the  paddle  had  jiossibly  broken  in  the  hand  of 
the  Indian,  and  that  in  endeavouring  to  regain 
the  other  part,  he  had  lost  his  balance  and  been 
drowned.  She  showed  Hector  a  rude  iii'ure  of 
a  bird  engraved  with  some  sharp  instrument, 
and  rubbed  in  with  a  blue  coh:)ur.     This,  she 


.4 

r 


196 


THE   CANADIAN   CiiUSOES. 


114 


h 


said,  was  the  totem  or  crest  of  the  chief  of  the 
tribe,  and  was  meant  to  represent  a  crow.  The 
canoe  had  belonged  to  a  chief  of  that  name. 
While  they  were  dividing  the  contents  of  the 
canoe  among  them  to  be  carried  to  the  shanty, 
Indiana,  taking  up  the  bass-rope  c'lnd  the  blanket, 
bundled  up  the  most  of  the  things,  and  adjust- 
ing the  broad,  thick  part  of  the  rope  to  the  front 
of  her  head,  she  bore  off  the  burden  with  great 
apparent  ease,  as  a  London  or  Edinburgh  porter 
would  his  trunks  and  packages,  turning  round 
with  a  merry  glance  and  repeating  some  Indian 
words  with  a  lively  air,  as  she  climbed  with  ap- 
parent ease  the  steep  bank,  and  soon  distanced 
her  companions,  to  her  great  enjoyment.  That 
night  Indiana  cooked  some  of  the  parched  rice, 
Indian  fashion,  with  venison,  and  they  enjoyed 
the  novelty  very  much— it  made  an  excellent 
substitute  for  bread,  of  which  they  had  been  so 
long  deprived. 

Indiana  gave  them  to  understand  that  the 
rice  harvest  would  soon  be  ready  on  the  lake, 
and  that  now  they  had  got  a  cauoe,  they  would 
go  out  and  gather  it,  and  so  lay  by  a  store  to 
last  them  for  many  months. 

This  little  incident  furnished  the  inhabitants 
of  the  shanty  with  frequent  themes  for  discus- 
sion. Hector  declared  that  the  Indian  corn  was 
the  most  valuable  of  their  acquisitions.     "  It 


THE    C'AN'ADIAX    CliUSOES. 


197 


It    the 

lake, 

kould 

ire  to 

litanta 
liscus- 
waa 
"It 


^  A  ensure  us  a  cro[>,  and  bread  and  seed* 
coiQ  For  many  years,"  he  said  ;  he  also  higlily 
vahiod  the  tomahawk,  as  his  axe  was  worn  and 
bhmt. 

Louis  was  divided  between  the  iron  pot  and 
the  canoe.  Hector  seemed  to  thi'ik  the  raft, 
after  all,  might  have  formed  a  substitute  foi 
the  latter ;  besides,  Indiana  had  signified  hei 
intention  of  helping  him  to  make  a  canoe. 
Catharine  declared  in  favour  of  the  blanket,  as 
it  would  make,  after  thorough  ablutions,  warm 
petticoats  with  tight  boddices  for  herself  and  In- 
diana. With  deer-skin  le^j^o^inii^s,  and  a  fur 
jacket,  they  should  be  comfortably  clad.  In- 
diana thought  the  canoe  the  most  precious,  and 
was  charmed  with  the  good  jar  and  the  store 
of  rice :  nor  did  she  despise  the  packing  rope, 
which  she  soon  showed  was  of  use  in  carrying 
burdens  from  ])lace  to  place,  Indian  fashion  ; 
by  placing  a  pad  of  soft  fur  in  front  of  the  head, 
she  could  carry  heavy  loads  with  great  ease. 
The  mat,  she  said,  was  useful  for  drying  the 
rice  she  meant  to  store. 

The  very  next  day  after  this  adventure,  the 
two  girls  set  to  work,  and  with  the  help  of 
Louis's  large  knife,  which  was  called  into  re- 
quisition as  a  substitute  for  scissors,  they  cut 
DUt  the  blanket  dresses,  and  in  a  short  time 
made  two  comfortable  and  not  very  unsightly 
IT* 


*1 


ti 
Ml 

H 
1 
I 

'  e 


198 


TII1<:    CANADIAN   ClU'SOES. 


WiA^: 


garmenfe  :  the  full,  sliort,  phiitcd  skirts  readied 
H  little  below  the  knee ;  liizht  vests  bordered 
with  fur  completed  the  upper  part,  and  leggings, 
terminated  at  the  ankles  by  knotted  fringes  of 
tlie  doe-skin,  with  mocassins  turned  over  with 
a  band  of  squirrel  fur,  completed  the  novel  but 
not  very  iuibecoini'>g  costume ;  and  many  a 
glance  of  innocent  s.-itisfUction  did  our  young 
damsels  cast  U])on  each  other  when  they  walked 
forth  in  the  pride  of  girlish  vanity  to  display 
their  di'esses  to  Hector  and  Louis,  who,  for 
their  parts,  regarded  them  as  most  skilful  dress- 
makers, and  were  never  tired  of  admiring  and 
commending  their  ingenuity  in  the  cutting, 
making,  and  fitting,  considering  what  rude  im- 
plements they  were  obliged  to  use  in  the  cutting 
out  and  sewing  of  the  garments. 

The  extensive  rice-beds  on  the  lake  had  now 
begun  to  assume  a  golden  tinge  which  con- 
trasted very  delightfully  with  the  deep  blue 
waters — looking,  when  lighted  up  by  the  sun- 
beams, like  islands  of  golden-coloured  sand. 
The  ears,  heavy  laden  with  the  ripe  grain, 
drooped  towarch"  tlie  water.  The  time  of  the 
riee-l';irvest  was  al  hand,  and  with  light  and 
joyous  hearts  our  young  adventurers -launched 
the  canoe,  and,  gu'dea  in  their  movements  by 
ihe  little  squaw,  paddlea  to  the  extensive 
aquatic  fields  to  gathe.^  v  >u^  ifj^»'ix^^  Oatixarine 


Till-:   (AN  AD  IAN    ClU'SOKS. 


199 


and  Wolfe  to  vviitcli  their  proceedings  from  the 
raft,  which  Louis  had  fastened  to  a  young  tree 
that  projected  out  over  the  lake,  and  which 
made  a  good  landing-place,  likewise  a  wharf 
where  they  could  stand  and  fish  very  comfort- 
ably. As  the  canoe  could  not  be  overloaded 
on  account  of  the  rice-gathering,  Catharine  very 
readily  consented  to  employ  herself  with  fishing 
from  the  raft  till  their  return. 

The  manner  of  procuring  the  rice  was  very 
simple.  One  person  steered  the  canoe  with  the 
aid  of  the  paddle  along  the  edge  of  the  rice  beds, 
and  another  with  a  stick  in  one  hand,  and  a 
curved,  sharp-edged  paddle  in  the  other,  struck 
the  heads  off  as  they  bent  them  over  the  edge 
of  the  stick;  the  chief  art  was  in  letting  the 
heads  fall  into  the  canoe,  which  a  little  practice 
soon  enabled  them  to  do  as  expertly  as  the 
mower  lets  the  grass  fall  in  ridges  beneath  his 
scythe. 

Many  bushels  of  wild  rice  were  thus  collected. 
Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  this  sort 
of  work  to  our  young  people,  and  merrily  they 
worked,  and  laughed,  and  sung,  as  they  came 
home  each  day  with  their  light  bark  laden  with 
a  store  of  grain  that  they  knew  would  preserve 
them  from  starving  through  the  long,  dreary 
tt'inter  that  was  coming  on. 

The  canoe  was  a  source  of  great  comfort  and 


1 


i 


i 
1 

n 


4 


200 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


Kii'ri 


PI 

k 

I. 


pleasure  to  thcrn  ;  they  were  now  able  to  paddle 
out  into  the  deep  water,  and  fisli  for  masquinonjl^ 
and  black  bass,  which  thev  cauujhtin  fjfreat  nuhi- 
bars. 

Indiana  seemed  quite  another  creature,  when 
armed  with  a  paddle  of  her  own  carving,  she 
knelt  at  the  head  of  the  canoe  and  sent  it  flying 
over  the  water;  then  her  dark  eyes,  often  so 
vacant  and  glassy,  s})arkled  with  delight,  and 
her  teeth  gleamed  with  ivory  whiteness  as  her 
face  oroke  into  smiles  and  dimples. 

It  was  delightful  then  to  watch  this  child  of 
nature,  and  see  how  innocently  happy  she  could 
be  when  rejoicing  in  the  excitement  of  healthy 
exercise,  and  elated  by  a  consciousness  of  the 
power  she  possessed  of  excelling  her  companions 
in  feats  of  strength  and  skill  which  they  had  yet 
to  acquire  by  imitating  her. 

Even  Louis  was  obliged  to  confess  that  the 
young  savage  knew  more  of  the  management  of 
a  canoe,  and  the  use  of  the  bows  and  arrows, 
and  the  fishing-line,  than  either  himself  or  his 
cousin.  Hector  was  lost  in  admiration  of  htr 
skill  in  all  these  things,  and  Indiana  rose  highly 
in  his  estimation  the  more  he  saw  ')f  her  u^o- 
fulness. 

"  Every  one  to  his  craft,"  said  Louis,  laughing ; 
"the  little  squaw  has  been  brought  up  in  the 
knowledge  and  practice  of  such  matters  from  her 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


201 


[)  paddlft 
qiiinonj^ 
eat  11  u  hi- 
re, whea 
nng,  she 
it  flying 
often  so 
ight,  and 
IS  as  her 

child  of 
ihe  could 
'  healthy 
s  of  the 
Danions 
had  yet 

lat  the 
nent  of 
arrows, 
or  his 
of  htr 
highly 
ler  u^o- 

ighing; 
in  the 
'Dm  her 


babyhood  ;  perhaps  if  we  were  to  set  her  to 
knitting,  and  spinning,  and  milking  of  cows, 
and  house-work,  and  learning  to  read,  I  doubt  if 
she  would  prove  half  as  quick  as  Catharine  or 
Mathilde." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  knows  any  thing  of  God  or 
our  Saviour,"  said  Hector,  thoughtfully. 

"Who  should  have  tausrhther?  for  the  In- 
dians  are  all  heathens,"  replied  Louis. 

"  I  have  heard  my  dear  motlier  say,  the  mis- 
sionaries have  taken  great  pains  to  teach  the  In- 
dian children  down  about  Quebec  and  Montreal, 
and  that  so  far  from  being  stupid,  they  learn 
very  readily,"  said  Catharine. 

"  We  must  try  and  make  Indiana  learn  to  say 
her  prayers  ;  she  sits  quite  still,  and  seems  to  take 
no  notice  of  what  we  are  doing  when  we  kneel 
down,  before  we  go  to  bed,"  observed  Hector. 

"  She  cannot  understand  what  we  say,"  said 
Catharine ;  "  for  she  knows  so  little  of  our  lan- 
guage yet,  that  of  course  she  cannot  com- 
prehend the  prayers,  which  are  in  other  sort 
of  words  than  what  we  use  in  speaking  of 
hunting  and  fishing,  and  cooking,  and  such 
matters." 

"  Well,  when  she  knows  more  of  our  way  of 
speaking,  then  we  must  teach  her ;  it  is  a  sad 
thing  for  Christian  children  to  live  with  an  un- 
taught pagan,"  said  Louis,  who,  being  rather 


1i 


*•-: 


I 
i 

] 


202 


THE   CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


iu«. 


pr.n 

in./ 


I 


bigoted  ill  liis  creed,  felt  a  sort  of  uneasiness  in 
his  own  mind  at  the  poor  girl's  total  want  of  the 
rites  of  his  churcli;  but  Hector  and  Catharine 
regarded  her  ignorance  with  feelings  of  compas- 
sionate interest,  and  lost  no  opportunity  that 
oftered  of  trying  to  enlighten  her  darkened  mind 
on  the  subject  of  belief  in  the  God  who  made, 
and  the  Lord  who  saved  them.  Simply  and 
earnestly  they  entered  into  the  task  as  a  labour 
of  love,  and  though  for  a  long  time  Indiana 
seemed  to  pay  little  attention  to  what  they  said, 
by  slow  degrees  the  good  seed  took  root  and 
brought  forth  fruit  worthy  of  Ilim  whose  Spirit 
poured  the  beams  of  spiritual  light  into  her 
heart:  but  my  young  readers  must  not, ima- 
gine these  things  were  the  work  of  a  day — the 
process  was  slow,  and  so  were  the  results,  but 
they  were  good  in  the  end. 

And  Catharine  was  glad  when,  after  many 
months  of  patient  teaching,  the  Indian  girl  asked 
permission  to  kneel  down  with  her  white  friend, 
and  pray  to  the  Great  Spirit  and  His  Son 
in  the  same  words  that  Christ  Jesus  gave  to  his 
disciples;  and  if  the  full  meaning  of  that  holy 
prayer,  so  full  of  humiHty  and  love,  and  moral 
justice,  was  not  fully  understood  by  her  whose 
lips  repeated  it,  yet  even  the  act  of  worship  and 
the  desire  to  do  that  which  she  had  been  told 
was  right,  was,  doubtless,  a  sacrifice  better  than 


THE   CANADIAN   CJU'SOKS. 


2U3 


tlio  pagan  rites  whi(;li  that  young  girl  had  wit- 
nessed among  her  father's  people,  who,  bhndly 
following  the  natural  inn)ulse  of  man  in  his 
depraved  nature,  regarded  deeds  of  blood  and 
cruelty  as  among  the  highest  of  human  virtues, 
and  gloried  in  those  deeds  of  vengeance  ai  which 
ti'.e  Christian  mind  revolts  with  horror. 

Indiana  took  upon  herself  the  management  of 
the  rice,  drying,  husking,  and  storing  it,  the  two 
lads  working  under  her  direction.  She  caused 
several  forked  stakes  to  be  cut  and  sharpened 
and  driven  into  the  ground;  on  these  were  laid 
four  poles,  so  as  to  form  a  frame,  over  which  she 
then  stretched  the  bass-mat,  which  she  secured 
by  means  of  forked  pegs  to  the  frame  on  the 
mat ;  she  then  spread  out  the  rice  tliinly,  and 
lighted  a  fire  beneath,  taking  good  care  not  to 
let  the  flame  set  fire  to  the  mat,  the  object 
being  rather  to  keep  up  a  strong  slow  heat,  by 
means  of  the  red  embers.  She  next  directed 
the  boys  to  supply  her  with  pine  or  cedar 
houghs,  which  she  stuck  in  close  together,  so 
as  to  enclose  the  fire  within  the  area  of  the 
stakes.  This  was  done  to  concentrate  the  heat 
mil  I  cause  it  to  bear  upwards  with  more  power; 
liio  I'ice  being  frequently  stirred  with  a  sort  of 
I'lng-handled  flat  shovel.  After  the  rice  was 
sufficiently  dried,  the  next  thing  to  be  done  was 
separating  it  from  the  husk,  and  this  was  effectecl 


) 


!| 
■1 
'I 

1 

a 


204 


THE   CAXADIAN  CRUSOES. 


itii*i. 


r 

I;' 


by  putting  it  by  small  quantities  into  the  iron 
j)ot,  and  with  a  sort  of  wooden  pestle  or  beetle, 
rubbing  it  round  and  round  against  the  sides.* 
If  they  had  not  had  the  iron  pot,  a  wooden  trough 
must  have  been  substituted  in  its  stead. 

When  the  rice  was  husked,  the  loose  chaff  was 
winnowed  from  it  in  a  flat  basket  like  a  sieve, 
and  it  was  then  put  by  in  coarse  birch  baskets, 
roughly  sewed  with  leather-wood  bark,  or  bags 
made  of  matting,  woven  by  the  little  squaw 
from  the  cedar-bark.  A  portion  was  also  parched, 
which  was  simply  done  by  putting  the  rice  dry 
into  the  iron  pot,  and  setting  it  on  hot  embers, 
stirring  the  grain  till  it  burst :  it  was  then 
stored  by  for  use.  Rice  thus  prepared  is  eaten 
dry,  as  a  substitute  for  bread,  by  the  Indians. 

The  lake  was  now  swarming  with  wild  fowl 
of  various  kinds  ;  crowds  of  ducks  were  wing- 
ing their  way  across  it  from  morning  till  night, 
floating  in  vast  flocks  upon  its  surface,  or  rising 
in  noisy  groups  if  an  eagle  or  fishhawk  appeared 
sailing  with  slow,  majestic  circles  above  them, 
then  settling  down  with  noisy  splash  upon  the 
calm  water.  The  shores,  too,  were  covered 
with  these  birds,  feeding  on  the  fallen  acorns 
which  fell  ripe  and  brown  with  every  passing 

*  The  Indians  often  make  use  of  a  very  rude,  primitive  sort 
of  mortar,  by  hollovvinfif  out  a  bass-wood  stump,  and  rubbing 
tlie  rice  with  a  wooden  pounder. 


■■li 


to  tlie  iron 
e  or  beetle, 

the  sides.* 
)(lcn  trough 
ad. 

;e  chaff  was 
ike  a  sieve, 
'ch  baskets, 
rk,  or  bags 
ittle  squaw 
Iso  parched, 
.he  rice  dry 
hot  embers, 
I  was  then 
ed  is  eaten 

Indians. 

wild  fowl 


were  win<2j- 


till  night. 


e,  or  rising 
appeared 

)ove  them, 
upon  the 
covered 

len  acorns 

ry  passing 

mrnitive  sort 
and  rubbing 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOKS. 


205 


breeze ;  the  berries  of  the  dogwood  also  furnish* 
ed  them  with  food ;  but  the  wild  rice  seemed 
the  great  attraction,  and  small  shcll-fish,  and  the 
larvue  of  many  insects  that  had  been  dropped 
into  the  waters,  there  to  come  to  perfection  in 
due  season,  or  to  form  a  provision  for  myriads  of 
wild  fowl  that  had  come  from  the  far  north-west 
to  feed  upon  them,  guided  by  that  instinct  which 
has  so  beautifully  been  termed  by  one  of  our 
modern  poetesses, 

"  God's  gift  to  the  weak."  ♦ 


*  Mrs.  Southey. 


IS 


""5 

■is* 

■J 


i 
I 

i 

J 


206 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUS0E3. 


CHAPTER   YIII. 


Oil,  coino  aiul  licar  whnt  cruel  wronjra 
Befell  the  Dark  Lmlvc." — (.'olkkidoe. 


^n 


npiIE  Mohawk  girl  was  in  high  spirits  at  the 
^  coming  of  the  wihl  fowl  to  the  Lake;  she 
would  clap  her  hands  and  langh  with  almost 
childish  gloe  as  she  looked  at  them  darkening 
the  lake  like  clouds  resting  on  its  surface. 

"  If  I  had  but  my  father's  gun,  his  good  old 
gun,  now !"  would  Ilcctor  say,  as  he  eyed  the 
timorous  flocks  as  they  rose  and  fell  upon  the 
lake ;  "  but  these  foolish  birds  are  so  shy,  that 
they  are  away  before  an  arrow  can  reach  them." 

Indiana  smiled  in  her  quiet  \vay;  she  was 
busy  filling  the  canoe  with  green  boughs,  which 
she  arranged  so  as  completely  to  transform  the 
little  vessel  into  the  semblance  of  a  floating 
island  of  evergreen ;  within  this  bower  she  mo- 
tioned Hector  to  crouch  down,  leaving  a  small 
Fpace  for  the  free  use  of  his  bow,  while  concealed 
at  the  prow  she  gently  and  noiselessly  paddled 
the  canoe  from  the  shore  among  the  rice-beds, 
letting  it  remain  stationary  or  merely  rocking 
to  and  fro  with  the  undulatory  motion  of  tho 
waters. 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


207 


rits  at  the 
lake;  slio 

ith  almost 

darken  incT 

face. 

=?  good  old 

!  eyed  the 

upon  the 

shy,  that 

ch  them." 

she  was 

hs,  which 

form  the 

a  floating 
r  she  mo- 
g  a  small 
concealed 
r  paddled 
rice-beds, 
rocking 
)n  of  tho 


The  unsuspecting  birds,  deceived  into  full 
Bccurity,  eagerly  pursued  their  pastime  or  their 
prey,  and  it  was  no  dilUcult  matter  for  the  hid- 
den archer  to  hit  many  a  black  duck  or  teal  or 
whistlewiuG^,  as  it  Hoatcvl  scx'urcly  on  the 
placid  water,  or  rose  to  shift  its  place  a  few 
3\ards  up  or  down  the  stream.  Soon  the  lake 
around  was  strewed  with  the  feathered  game, 
which  Wolfe,  cheered  on  by  Louis,  who  was 
stationed  on  the  shore,  brought  to  land. 

Indiana  told  Hector  that  this  was  the  season 
when  the  Indians  made  great  gatherings  on  tho 
lake  for  duck-shooting,  which  they  pursued  much 
after  the  same  fashion  as  that  which  has  been 
described,  only  instead  of  one,  a  dozen  or  more 
canoes  would  be  thus  diso^uised  with  boui^hs, 
with  others  stationed  at  different  parts  of  the 
lake,  or  under  the  shelter  of  the  island,  to  collect 
the  birds.  This  sport  was  generally  finished  by 
a  great  feast. 

The  Indians  offered  the  first  of  the  birds  as 
an  oblation  to  the  Great  Spirit,  as  a  grateful 
acknowledgment  of  his  bounty  in  having 
allowed  them  to  gather  food  thus  plentifully  for 
their  families;  sometimes  distant  tribes  with 
whom  they  were  on  terms  of  friendship  were 
invited  to  share  the  wsport  and  partake  of  the 
spoils. 

Indiana  could  not  understand  why  lle/itor 


•'•v.,. 


n 

1 


i 

« 

] 


208 


THE   CANADIAN'   CUUSOKS. 


m 

ir 

IT 
I 


i 


il;l 


did  not  fullow  tlie  custom  of  her  Indian  futhera, 
and  oflcr  the  first  duck  or  tlic  best  iLsli  to  ]>ri>- 
j)itiatc  the  Groat  Spirit.  Hector  told  her  that 
tlie  (jod  he  worshipped  desired  no  sacrifice  ;  that 
liis  holy  Son,  when  he  came  down  from  heaven 
and  gave  himself  as  a  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of 
tlie  world,  had  satisfied  his  Father,  the  Great 
Spirit,  an  hundred-fold. 

They  feasted  now  continually  upon  the  water- 
fowl, and  Catharine  learned  from  Indiana  how 
to  skin  them,  and  so  preserve  the  feathers  for 
making  tippets,  and  bonnets,  and  ornamental 
trimmings,  which  are  not  only  warm,  but  light 
and  very  becoming.  They  split  open  any  of  the 
birds  that  they  did  not  require  for  present  con- 
sumption, and  tliese  they  dried  for  winter  store, 
smoking  some  after  the  manner  that  the  Shet- 
landers  and  Orkney  peoj)le  smoke  the  solan 
geese:  their  shanty  displayed  an  abundant 
store  of  provisions,  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  besides 
baskets  of  wild  rice,  and  bags  of  dried  fruit. 

One  day  Indiana  came  in  from  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  and  told  the  boys  that  the  lake  eastward 
was  covered  with  canoes  ;  she  showed,  by  hold- 
ing up  her  two  hands  and  then  three  fingers,  that 
she  had  counted  thirteen.  The  tribes  had  met 
for  the  annual  duck-feast,  and  for  the  rice-harvest. 
She  advised  them  to  put  out  the  fire,  so  that  no 
smoke  might  be  seen  to  attract  them ;  but  said 


k 


TlIK    CANADIAN    CIll'SoES. 


209 


,11  fillliera, 
h  to  ]>n>- 
licr  that 
fioc  ;  that 
rn  hciiveii 
le  sins  of 
the  Great 

he  water- 

iana  how 

athers  for 

•namental 

but  light 

my  of  the 

sent  con- 

iter  store, 

he  Shet- 

le  solan 

ibundant 

besides 

fruit. 

brow  of 

3astward 

by  hold- 

^ers,  that 

had  met 

harvest. 

that  no 

ut  said 


') 


they  would  not  l-uve  the  lakr  tor  liuatiuL^  over 
the  plains  just  then,  as  the  eainp  way  lower  down 
on  the  point*  east  of  the  mouth  ol'  a  I  i<^^  river, 
which  she  eullcd  "  Otonabce." 

llt.'ctor  asked  Indiana  if  sh»'  wouhl  go  away 
and  leave  them,  in  the  event  of  n/^^jeting  with 
any  of  her  own  tribe.  The  girl  east  her  eyes 
on  the  eai'th  in  sil;'net' ;  a  dark  cloud  seemed  to 
gather  over  her  face. 

^^  li'  tliey  should  ])rove  to  be  any  of  your 
fathei''s  pe()})le,  or  a  Irieudly  tribe,  would  you 
go  away  with  them?"  he  again  repeated,  to 
which  she  solenmly  rej)lied, 

"Indiana  has  no  father,  no  tribe,  no  people; 
no  blood  oi'  her  father's  warms  the  heart  of  any 
man,  woman,  or  child,  saving  myself  alone;  but 
Indiana  is  a  brave,  and  tiie  daughter  of  a  brave, 
and  will  not  shrink  from  danger:  her  heart  is 
warm ;  red  blood  flows  warm  here,"  and  she 
laid  her  hand  on  he-r  heart.  Then  lifting  up 
lier  hand,  she  said  with  slow  but  impassioned 
tone,  "  They  left  not  one  drop  of  living  blood  to 
(low  in  any  veins  but  these,"  and  her  eyes  were 
raised,  and  her  arms  stretched  upwards  towards 

*  This  point,  commonly  known  as  Andersfm' s  Point,  now  the 
*eiit  of  the  Indian  villafre,  used  in  former  times  to  b>e  a  great 
place  of  rendezvous  for  the  Indians,  and  was  the  site  of  a  mur- 
deroiis  carnai^e  or  massacre  that  took  place  about  eiglity  yearn 
ago  ;  the  war- weapons  and  bones  of  the  Indians  are  of^en  turned 

^ip  with  the  plongii  at  this  day. 
18* 


^ 

^ 

^ 


't 
I 

;i 

1 
q 
a 


\ 


4 

r 


210 


THE    CAXAPTAX    CfU'SOES 


C 


I,    '"'11: 


m»' 


heaven,  as  though  calling  clown  vengeance  on 
the  murderers  of  her  father's  house. 

"  Mj  father  was  a  Mf^hawk,  the  son  of  a 
great  chief,  who  owned  these  hunting-grounds 
far  as  your  eye  can  see  to  the  rising  and  setting 
Bun,  alonor  the  hvj:  waters  of  tlie  bio^  lakes ;  but  the 
Ojebwas,  a  portion  of  the  Chippewa  nation,  by 
treachery  cut  off  my  fatlier's  people  by  hundreds 
in  cold  blood,  when  they  were  defenceless  and 
at  rest.  It  was  a  blood}^  day  and  a  bloody 
deed." 

Instead  of  hiding  herself,  as  Hector  and  Loxna 
strongly  advised  the  young  Mohawk  to  do,  she 
preferred  remaining  as  a  scout,  she  said,  under 
the  cover  of  the  bushes  on  the  edge  of  the  steep 
that  overlooked  the  lake,  to  watch  their  move- 
ments. She  told  Hector  to  be  under  no  apppre- 
hension  if  the  Indians  came  to  the  hut;  not  to 
attempt  to  conceal  themselves,  but  offer  them 
food  to  eat  and  water  to  diink.  "  If  they  come 
to  the  house  and  find  you  away,  they  will  take 
your  stores  and  burn  your  roof,  suspecting  that 
you  are  afraid  to  meet  them  openly  ;  bat  they 
will  not  harm  you  if  you  meet  them  with  open 
hand  and  fearless  brow :  if  they  eat  of  your  bread, 
they  will  not  harm  you ;  me  they  would  kill  by 
a  cruel  death — the  war-knife  is  in  their  heart 
against  the  daughter  of  the  brave." 

The  boys  thought  Indiana's  advice  good,  and 


?(ince  on 

son  of  a 
-groundg 
d  setting 
;  but  the 
ation,  bv 
lundreds 
^less  and 
I  bloody 

nd  Louia 

>  do,  she 

d,  under 

he  steep 

move- 

ippprc- 

not  to 

er  them 

sy  come 

ill  take 

ncr  that 

at  they 

th  open 

r  bread, 

kill  by 

'  heart 

od,  and 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


21: 


khey  felt  no  fear  for  themselves,  only  for  Cath- 
arine, whom  they  counselled  to  remain  in  the 
shanty  with  Wolfe. 

The  Indians  seemed  intent  only  on  the  sport 
which  they  had  come  to  enjoy,  seeming  in  high 
glee,  and  as  far  as  they  could  see  quite  peaceably 
disposed ;  every  night  they  returned  to  the  camp 
on  the  north  side,  and  the  bovs  could  see  their 
fires  gleaming  among  the  trees  on  the  opposite 
shore,  and  now  and  then  in  the  stillness  of  the 
eveninsr  their  wild  shouts  of  revelrv  would  come 
faintly  to  their  ears,  borne  by  the  breeze  over 
the  waters  of  the  lake. 

The  allusion  that  Indiana  had  made  to  her 
own  history,  though  conveyed  in  broken  and 
hardly  intelligible  language,  had  awakened  feel- 
ings of  deep  interest  for  her  in  the  breasts  of 
her  faithful  friends.  Many  months  after  this 
she  related  to  her  wondering  auditors  the  fearful 
story  of  the  massacre  of  her  kindred,  and  which 
I  may  as  well  relate,  as  I  have  raised  tlie  curi- 
osity of  my  youthful  readers,  though  to  do  so 
[  must  render  it  in  my  own  language,  as  the 
broken,  half-formed  sentences  in  which  its  flicts 
were  conveyed  to  the  ears  of  my  Canadian 
Crusoes  would  be  unintelligible  to  my  young 
friends.* 

*  The  tiicts  of  this  narrative  were  gatlierod  from  tlio  lipa  of 
Uie  eldest  son  of  a  Rice  Lake  chief.     1  have  p''cfcrroJ  giv'iigf  tt 


"*S3 


H 

;1 

1 

•    I 


i 


1 

4 


212 


THE   CANADIAN   CliUSOES. 


Ciii 


|I|.""I'IM 
I!  Hi 


There  had  been  for  some  time  a  jealous  feel- 
ing existing  between  the  chiefs  of  two  principal 
tribes  of  the  Ojebwas  and  the  Mohawks,  which 
like  a  smothered  fire  had  burnt  in  the  heart  of 
each,  without  having  burst  into  a  decided  blaze 
— for  each  strove  to  compass  his  ends  and  obtain 
the  advantage  over  the  other  by  covert  means. 
The  tribe  of  the  Mohawks  of  which  I  now 
speak,  claimed  the  southern  shores  of  the  Rice 
Lake  for  their  hunting-grounds,  and  certain 
islands  and  parts  of  the  lake  for  fishing,  while 
that  of  the  Ojebwas  considered  themselves 
masters  of  the  northern  shores  and  certain  rights 
of  water  besides.  Possibly  it  was  about  these 
rights  that  the  quarrel  originated,  but  if  so,  it 
was  not  openly  avowed  between  the  "  Black 
Snake,"  (that  was  the  totem  borne  by  the  Mo- 
hawk chief,)  and  the  "  Bald  Eagle"  (the  totem 
of  the  Ojebwa). 

These  chiefs  had  each  a  son,  and  the  Bald 
Eagle  had  also  a  daughter  of  great  and  rare 
beauty,  called  by  her  people  "  The  Beam  of 
the  Morning;"  she  was  the  admiration  of  Mo- 
hawks as  well  as  Ojebwas,  and  many  of  the 
young  men  of  both  the  tribes  had  sought  her 
hand,  but  hitherto  in  vain.  Among  her  numer- 
ous suitors  the  son  of  the  Black  Snake  seemed 


in  t}ie  prosoiit  fonu,  rather  tliiin  as  tlie  story  of  tho  IiifJiun  girli 
Simp  3  lis  it  is,  it  is  iiuitter  ol'  history. 


)us  feel- 
principal 
s,  which 
tieart  of 
ed  blaze 
d  obtain 
t  means. 
1  I  now 
the  Rice 

certain 
.g,  while 
3mselves 
,in  rights 
)ut  these 

if  so,  it 

"  Black 
the  Mo- 

e  totem 

Ihe  Bald 
,nd  rare 
learn  of 
of  Mo- 

of  the 

ho-ht  her 

numer- 

seemed 

liKJiun  g'lrl, 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRUSOES. 


213 


to  be  the  most  enamoured  of  her  beauty;  and 
it  was  probably  with  some  intention  of  winning 
tlie  favour  of  the  young  Ojcbwa  squaw  for  his 
son,  that  the  Bhick  Snake  accepted  the  formal 
invitation  of  the  Bald  Eai^le  to  come  to  his 
hunting-grounds  during  the  rice-harvest,  and 
shoot  deer  and  ducks  on  the  lake,  and  to  ratify 
a  truce  which  had  been  for  some  time  set  on  foot 
between  them  ;  but  while  outwardly  professing 
friendship  and  a  desire  for  peace,  inwardly  the 
fire  of  hatred  burned  fiercely  in  the  breast  of  the 
Black  Snake  against  the  Ojebwa  chief  and  his 
only  son,  a  young  man  of  great  promise,  re- 
nowned among  his  tribe  as  a  great  hunter  and 
warrior,  but  who  had  once  offended  the  Mohawk 
chief  by  declining  a  matrimonial  alliance  with 
one  of  the  daughters  of  a  chief  of  inferior  rank, 
who  was  closely  connected  to  him  by  marriage. 
This  affront  rankled  in  the  heart  of  the  Black 
Snake,  though  outwardly  he  affected  to  have 
forgiven  and  forgotten  the  slight  that  had  been 
put  upon  his  relative. 

The  hunting  had  been  carried  on  for  some 
days  very  amicably,  when  one  day  the  Bald 
Eagle  was  requested,  with  all  due  attention  to 
Indian  etiquette,  to  go  to  the  wigwam  of  the 
Black  Snake.  On  entering  the  lodge,  he  per- 
ceived the  Mohawk  strangely  disordered ;  he  rose 
from  his  mat,  on  which  he  had  been  sleeping, 


I' 


It 

H 
1 


214 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


"ItllA, 


^ 


r 


iliisi'l:: 


with  a  couiitcnjince  foarfully  distorted,  his  ejea 
glaring  hideously,  his  whole  frame  convulsed, 
and  writhing  as  in  fearful  bodily  anguish,  and 
casting  himself  upon  the  ground,  he  rolled  and 
grovelled  on  the  earth,  uttering  frightful  yells 
and  groans. 

The  Bald  Ea^le  was  moved  at  the  distressinsj 
state  in  which  he  found  his  guest,  and  asked  the 
cause  of  his  disorder,  h.)it  this  the  other  refused 
to  tell.  After  some  hgurs  the  fit  appeared  to 
subside,  but  the  chief  remained  moody  and  silent. 
The  following  day  the  same  scene  was  repeated, 
and  on  the  third,  when  the  fit  seemed  to  have 
increased  in  bodily  agony,  with  great  apparent 
reluctance,  wrung  seemingly  from  him  by  the 
importunity  of  his  host,  he  consented  to  reveal 
the  cause,  which  was,  that  the  Bad  Spirit  had 
told  him  that  these  bodily  tortures  could  not 
cease  till  the  only  son  of  his  friend,  the  Ojebwa 
chief,  had  been  sacrificed  to  appease  his  anger — 
neither  could  peace  long  continue  between  the 
two  nations  until  this  deed  had  been  done ;  and 
not  onlv  must  the  chiefs  son  be  slain,  but  he 
must  be  pierced  by  his  own  ilither's  hand,  and 
his  flesh  served  up  at  a  feast  at  which  the  father 
must  preside.  The  Black  Snake  affected  the 
utmost  horror  and  aversion  at  so  bloody  and 
unnatural  a  deed  being  committed  to  save  hia 
life  and  the  happiness  of  his  tribe,  but  the  peace 


THE   CANADIAN   CRL'SOES. 


215 


Ill's  eyca 
ivulsed, 
ish,  and 
lied  and 
al  yells 

dressing 

iked  the 

refused 

?ared  to 

d  silent. 

^peated, 

to  have 

pparent 

by  the 

)  reveal 

irit  had 

aid  not 

Ojebwa 

mger — 

een  the 

le ;  and 

but  he 

id,  and 

father 

ed  the 

ly  and 

ive  hia 

speaco 


was  10  be  ratiliod  for  ever  if  the  sacritiee  was 
made, — if  not,  war  to  the  kuilc  was  to  be  ever 
between  the  Mohawks  an^l  Ojebwas. 

The  Bald  Eairle  seeinu;  that  his  treacherous 
guest  would  make  this  an  occasion  of  renewing 
a  deadly  warfare,  for  which  possibly  he  was  not 
at  the  time  well  prepared,  assumed  a  stoical 
calmness,  and  replied, 

"  Be  it  so ;  great  is  the  power  of  the  Bad  Spirit 
to  cause  evil  to  the  tribes  of  the  chiefs  that  rebel 
against  his  will.  My  son  shall  be  saeriiiced  by 
my  hand,  that  the  evil  one  may  be  appeased, 
and  that  the  Black  Snake's  body  may  have  ease, 
and  his  people  rest  beside  the  fires  of  their 
lodges  in  peace." 

"  The  Bald  Eagle  has  spoken  like  a  chief 
with  a  large  heart,"  was  the  specious  response 
of  the  wily  Mohawk ;  "  moreover,  the  Good 
Spirit  also  appeared,  and  said,  '  Let  the  Black 
Snake's  son  and  tlie  Bald  Eagle's  daughter 
become  man  and  wife,  that  peace  may  be  found 
to  dwell  among  the  lodges,  and  the  war-hatchet 
be  buried  for  ever.'  " 

"  The  Beam  of  the  Morning  shall  become  tbe 
wife  of  the  Young  Pine,"  was  the  courteous 
answer;  but  stern  revenge  lay  deep  hidden  be- 
neath the  uiunoved  brow  and  nassionles; 


P' 


ip. 


The  fatal  dav  arrived ;  the  Bald  Eagrle,  with 
unflinching   hand   and    eye  that   dropped    no 


'"-^ 


M 


J 


■       ] 


■¥' 


216 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOEw^. 


Witt 


IT 

t 
1. 


human  tear  of  sorrow  for  the  son  of  his  love, 
plunged  the  weapon  into  his  heart  with  Spartan- 
like lirmness.  The  fearful  feast  of  human  flesh 
was  prepared,  and  that  old  chief,  pale  but  un- 
moved, presided  over  the  ceremonies.  The 
war-dance  was  danced  around  the  sacrifice,  and 
all  went  off  well,  as  if  no  such  fearful  rite  had 
been  enacted :  but  a  fearful  retribution  was  at 
hand.  The  Younof  Pine  souoht  the  tent  of  the 
Bald  Eagle's  daughter  that  evening,  and  was 
received  with  all  due  deference,  as  a  son  of  so 
great  a  chief  as  the  Black  Snake  merited ;  he 
was  regarded  now  as  a  successful  suitor,  and 
intoxicated  with  the  beauty  of  the  Beam  of  the 
Morning,  pressed  her  to  allow  the  marriage  to 
take  place  in  a  few  days.  The  bride  consented, 
and  a  day  was  named  for  the  wedding  feast  to 
be  celebrated,  and  that  due  honour  might  be 
given  to  so  great  an  event,  invitations  were  sent 
out  to  the  principal  families  of  the  Mohawk 
tribe,  and  these  amounted  to  several  hundreds 
of  souls,  while  the  young  Ojebwa  hunters  were 
despatched  up  the  river  and  to  different  parts  of 
the  country,  avowedly  to  collect  venison,  beaver, 
and  other  delicacies  to  regale  their  guests,  but 
in  reality  to  summon  by  means  of  trusty  scouta 
a  large  war  party  from  the  small  lakes,  to  be  in 
readiness  to  take  part  in  the  deadly  revenge 
that  was  preparing  for  their  enemies. 


THE   CAXADTAX    CRUSOES. 


217 


f  his  love, 

h  Spartan- 

iman  flesh 

le  but  un- 

ies.      The 

rifice,  and 

il  rite  had 

ion  was  at 

ent  of  the 

and  was 

son  of  so 

irited  ;  he 

litor,  and 

am  of  the 

arriage  to 

lonsented, 

g  feast  to 

might  be 

^ere  sent 

Mohawk 

hundreds 

ters  were 

parts  of 

,  beaver, 

ests,  but 

)y  scouta 

to  be  in 

revenge 


Meantime  the  squaws  pitched  the  nuptial  tent, 
and  prepared  the  bridal  ornaments.  A  large 
wigwam  capable  of  containing  all  the  expected 
guests  was  then  constructed,  adorned  with  the 
thick  branches  of  evergreens  so  artfully  con- 
trived as  to  be  capable  of  concealing  the  armed 
Ojebwas  and  their  allies,  who  in  due  time  wei'e 
introduced  beneath  this  leafy  screen,  armed  with 
the  murderous  tomahawk  and  scalping-knifa 
with  which  to  spring  upon  their  defenceless  and 
unsuspecting  guests.  According  to  the  etiquette 
always  observed  upon  such  occasions,  all  deadly 
weapons  were  left  outside  the  tent.  The  bride- 
groom had  been  conducted  with  songs  and 
dancing  to  the  tent  of  the  bride.  The  guests, 
to  the  number  of  several  hundred  naked  and 
painted  warriors,  were  assembled.  The  feast 
was  declared  to  be  ready ;  a  great  iron  pot  or 
kettle  occupied  the  centre  of  the  tent.  Ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  Indians,  the  father 
of  the  bridegroom  was  invited  to  lift  the  most 
important  dish  from  the  pot,  whilst  the  warriors 
commenced  their  war-dance  around  him.  This 
dish  was  usually  a  bear's  head,  which  was 
fastened  to  a  string  left  for  the  purpose  of  raising 
it  from  the  pot. 

"  Let  the  Black  Snake,  the  great  chief  of  the 
Mohawks,  draw  up  the  head  and  set  it  on  the 
table,  that  his  people  may  eat  and  make  merry^ 
19 


.^' 


--4, 


V;  I, 


a 


218 


Tin:   CANADIAN   CIIL'SOES. 


C" 

IT 

I 


:l,l 


,| .  >.,| 


and  that  liis  wise  lieart  may  be  glad,"  weie  the 
scornl'ul  words  of  the  Bald  P^aizle. 

A  yell  of  horror  burst  I'rom  the  lips  of  the 
liorroi'-striekeu  lather,  as  he  lifted  to  view  the 
fresh  and  gory  head  of  his  only  son,  the  hapj))j 
bridegroom  of  the  lovely  daughter  of  the  Ojeb \va 
chief. 


(( 


Ila !"  shouted  the  Bald  Eagle,  "  is  the  great 
chief  of  the  Mohawks  a  squaw,  that  his  blood 
grows  white  and  his  heart  trembles  at  the  sight 
of  his  son,  the  bridegroom  of  the  Beam  of  the 
Morning?  The  Bald  Eagle  gave  neither  sigh 
nor  groan  when  he  plunged  the  knife  into  the 
heart  of  his  child.  Come,  brother,  take  the 
knife ;  taste  the  flesh  and  drink  the  blood  of  thy 
son  :  the  Bald  Eagle  shrank  not  when  you  bade 
him  partake  of  the  feast  that  was  prepared  from 
his  young  warrior's  body." 

The  wretched  father  dashed  himself  upon  the 
earth,  while  his  cries  and  howlings  rent  the  air; 
those  cries  were  answered  by  the  war-whoop  of 
the  ambushed  Ojebwas,  as  they  sprang  to  their 
feet,  and  with  deafening  yells  attacked  the 
guests,  who,  panic-stricken,  naked,  and  defence- 
less, fell  an  easy  prey  to  their  infuriated  enemies. 
Not  one  living  foe  escaped  to  tell  the  tale  of 
that  fearful  marriage  feast.  A  second  Judith 
had  the  Indian  girl  proved.  It  was  her  plighted 
hand  that  had  severed  the  head  of  her  unsus 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOKS. 


219 


,"  weie  the 

ips  of  the 

J  view  the 

the  Iiiipj)}j 

lie  Ojebwa 

3  the  great 
his  blood 
;  the  sight 
am  of  the 
iither  sigh 
b  into  the 
take  the 
)od  of  thy 
jou  bade 
ired  from 

upon  the 
''  the  air; 
v^hoop  of 

to  their 
ked  the 
defence- 
enemies. 

tale  of 
.  Judith 
plighted 
r  unsus 


pectiug  bridegroom  to  complete  the  fearful  ven- 
geance that  had  been  devised  in  return  for  the 
merciless  and  horrible  murder  of  her  brother. 

Nor  was  the  sacrilice  yet  finished,  for  with 
fearful  cries  the  Indian  seized  upon  the  canoes 
of  their  enemies,  and  with  the  utmost  speed, 
urged  by  unsatisfied  revenge,  hurried  down  the 
lake  to  an  island  where  the  women  and  children 
and  such  of  the  aged  or  young  men  as  were 
not  included  among  the  wedding  guests,  were 
encamped  in  unsuspecting  security.  Panic- 
stricken,  the  Mohawks  olfered  no  resistance, 
but  fell  like  sheep  a})pointed  for  the  slaughter: 
the  Ojebwas  slew  there  the  grey-head  with  the 
mfant  of  da3'S.  But  while  the  youths  and  old 
men  tamely  yielded  to  their  enemies,  there  was 
one,  whose  spirit  roused  to  fury  by  the  murder 
of  her  father,  armed  herself  with  the  war-club 
and  knife,  and  boldly  withstood  the  successful 
warriors.  At  the  door  of  the  tent  of  the  slaugh- 
tered chief  the  Amazon  defended  her  children  : 
while  the  war-lightning  kindled  in  her  dark 
eve,  she  called  aloud  in  scornful  tones  to  her 
people  to  hide  themselves  in  the  tents  of  their 
women,  who  alone  were  braves,  and  would  fight 
their  battles.  Fiercely  she  taunted  the  men, 
but  they  shrank  from  the  unequal  contest,  and 
jhe  alone  was  found  to  deal  the  denth-blow 
upon  the  foe,  till  overpowered  with  numbers, 


b 


"4* 


,1 


220 


THE   CAXADTAX   CRT'SOES. 


e 

f  nr  ' 


!Mf 


'i'j  ■' 


and  pierced  with  frightful  wounds,  she  fell  sing, 
ing  her  own  death-song  and  raising  the  wail  for 
the  dead  who  lay  around  her.  Night  closed  in, 
hut  the  work  of  blood  still  continued,  till  not  a 
victim  was  found,  and  again  they  went  forth  on 
their  exterminating  work.  Lower  down  they 
^ound  another  encampment,  and  there  also  they 
slew  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  lodges ;  they  then 
returned  back  to  the  island,  to  gather  together 
their  dead  and  collect  the  spoils  of  their  tents. 
They  were  weary  with  the  fatigue  of  the  slaugh- 
t*^r  of  that  fearful  day  ;  they  were  tired  of  blood- 
shedding  ;  the  retribution  had  satisfied  even 
their  love  of  blood :  and  when  they  found,  on 
returning  to  the  spot  where  the  heroine  had 
stood  at  bay,  one  young  solitary  female  sitting 
beside  the  corpse  of  that  dauntless  woman,  her 
mother,  they  led  her  away,  and  did  all  that 
their  savage  nature  could  suggest  to  soften  her 
anguish  and  dry  her  tears.  They  brought  her 
to  the  tents  of  their  women,  and  clothed  and 
fed  her,  and  bade  her  be  comforted ;  but  her 
young  heart  burned  within  her,  and  she  refused 
consolation.  .She  could  not  forget  the  \vron2:s 
of  her  people :  she  was  the  only  living  creature 
left  of  the  Mohawks  on  that  island.  The  young 
girl  was  Indiana,  the  same  whom  Hector  Max- 
well had  found,  wounded  and  bound,  to  perisb 
with  hunger  and  thirst  on  Bare-hilL 


ihe  fell  s/ng' 

the  wail  for 

ht  closed  ill, 

!(1,  till  not  a 

ent  forth  on 

down  they 

re  also  they 

i;  they  then 

ler  together 

their  tents. 

the  slaiigli- 

ed  of  blood- 

isfied  even 

Y  found,  on 

eroine  had 

lale  sittiniT 

i^oman,  her 

d  all  that 

soften  her 

ought  her 

othed  and 

but  her 

le  refused 

le  wronofs 

g  creature 

he  young 

'tor  Max- 

to  perish 


THE   CANAm^lN   CK^  rOES. 


221 


Brooding  with  lev;  tigo  in  her  heart)  the 
young  girl  told  theni  that  she  had  stolen  unper- 
ceived  into  the  tent  of  the  liald  Kagle,  an(\ 
aimed  a  knife  at  his  thi'oat,  but  the  fatal  bltjw 
was  arrested  by  one  of  the  young  men,  who  had 
Wiitched  her  enter  the  old  chief's  tent.  A  coun- 
cil was  called,  and  she  was  taken  to  Bare-hill, 
bound,  and  left  in  the  sad  state  already  de- 
scribed. 

It  was  with  feelin<rs  of  horror  and  terror  that 
the  Christian  children  listened  to  this  fearful 
talc,  and  Indiana  read  in  their  averted  eyes  and 
pale  faces  the  feelings  with  which  the  recital  of 
the  tale  of  blood  had  inspired  them.  And  then 
it  was  that  as  they  sat  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
trees,  in  the  soft  misty  light  of  an  Indian  sum- 
mer moon,  that  Catharine,  with  simple  earnest- 
ness, taught  her  young  disciple  those  heavenly 
lessons  of  mercy  and  forgiveness  which  her  Re- 
deemer had  set  forth  by  his  life,  his  doctrines, 
and  his  death. 

And  she  told  her,  that  if  she  would  see  tha. 
Saviour's  face  in  heaven,  and  dwell  with  him 
in  joy  and  peace  for  ever,  she  must  learn  to  pray 
for  those  dreadful  men  who  had  made  her  father- 
less and  motherless,  and  her  home  a  desolation ; 
that  the  lire  of  revenge  must  be  quenched  within 
her  heart,  and  the  spirit  of  love  alone  find  plact^ 
within  it,  or  she  could  uot  become  the  child  of 
19* 


'"^ 


^'j«*>«, 


1 


n 
I 

1 

<  a 

,1 


m 

I 


♦■ 


222 


TITK   CAXADTAX   rilUSOKS. 


c 

F 

I 

I 
\ 


'"■  'I 


God  and  an  inlieritor  of  tho  klnu^dom  of  hoavfu 
JIow  hard  wore  tlicse  conditions  to  the  vonnij' 
lieatli(;n, — how  contrary  to  L  t  nature,  to  all 
that  sh(^  had  boon  taught  in  tlic  tents  of  her 
fiitliers,  \vh(3ro   revenjje  was  virtue,  and   to  take 


tl 


le  se 


thi  of 


m  eneniv  a  <j:i()nous  tliin;z 


>y 


th 


t 


Yet  when  she  contrasted  tlie  gentle,  kind,  rtnd 
dovedike  characters  of  her  Christian  friends 
with  the  lierce,  bloody  people  of  her  tribe  and 
of  her  Ojebwa  enemies,  she  could  not  but  own 
they  were  more  worthy  of  love  and  acbniration: 
had  they  not  found  her  a  poor,  miserable,  trem- 
bling captive,  unbound  her,  fed  and  cherished 
her,  pouring  the  balm  of  consolation  into  her 
wounded  heart,  and  leading  her  in  bands  of 
tenderest  love  to  forsake  those  wild  and  fearful 
passions  that  warred  in  her  soul,  and  bringing 
her  to  the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  to  become  his 
meek  and  holy  child,  a  lamb  of  his  "  extended 
fold  ?"* 

*  TIio  Indian  who  related  this  naiTative  to  mo  was  a  son  of  a 
Rice  Lake  chief,  Mosang  Poudasli  by  name,  who  vouchcil  for 
its  truth  as  an  liistoric  fact  remembered  Ijy  liia  father,  whose 
grandsire  had  been  one  of  tlie  actors  in  tlie  massacre.  Mosaui^ 
l*oudash  promised  to  write  down  tlie  le^'cuvl,  and  did  so,  in 
oart,  but  made  sucli  confusion  between  liis  iinjierfect  English 
and  Indian  hmguage,  that  tiie  MS.  was  unavailable  for  copying. 


THE  CAXADTAX   CRUSOK9. 


223 


of  llP.IVPU 

lire,  to  all 
nts  of  lier 
id  to  tiilvo 

\tr  f 

i,  kind,  mid 
an  friomls 
r  tribe  aui] 
3t  but  own 
drniration: 
able,  trem- 
L  clierishtMl 
n  into  her 

bands  of 
and  fearful 

bringing 
lecoine  his 
''extended 


I'as  a  son  of  a 

voncheil  for 

father,  whose 

're.     Mortani^ 

|d  did  rto,  iu 

•feet  English 

for  copying. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"The  l.orn  of  the  Imntcr  in  heard  on  the  hill." 

/I'ish  Sony. 

"VXTIWHjK  tli(5  Indians  were  actively  pursuing 
*  ^  their  sjiorts  on  th(5  lake,  shooting  wild 
fowl,  and  hunting  and  fishing  by  torcli-light, 
BO  exciting  was  the  amusement  of  watching 
them,  that  the  two  lads,  Hector  and  Louis, 
quite  forgot  all  sense  of  danger  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  lying  or  sitting  on  the  brow  of  the 
mount  near  the  great  ravine,  and  looking  at 
their  proceedings.  Once  or  twice  the  lads  were 
near  betraying  themselves  to  the  Indians  by 
raising  a  shout  of  delight,  at  some  skilful  ma- 
noeuvre that  excited  their  unqualified  admiration 
and  applause. 

At  night,  when  the  canoes  had  all  retired  to 
the  camp  on  the  north  shore,  and  all  fear  of 
detection  had  ceased  for  the  time,  they  lighted 
up  their  shanty  fire,  and  cooked  a  good  sup- 
per, and  also  prepared  sufficiency  of  food  for  the 
following  day.  The  Indians  remained  for  a 
fortnight;  at  the  end  of  that  time  Indiana,  who 
was  a  watchful  spy  on  their  movements,  told 
Hector  and  Jjouis  that  the  camp  was  broken  up, 


"^ 


••"l 


tl 

H 
l 


a 


224 


THIO   CAXADIAX    CKrS01%;S. 


*\ 


W! « 

u 


e: 


ii,  l.>|  ?. 


and  thiit  the  Iiulians  had  gone  up  the  river,  and 
would  not  rt'turn  agiiin  for  some  weeks.  The 
departure  of  the  Indians  was  a  matter  of  great 
rejoieing  to  Cathai'ine,  whose  dread  of  these 
savages  had  gi'eatly  increased  since  she  had 
been  made  acquainted  with  the  fearful  deeds 
which  Indiana  had  described  ;  and  what  reliance 
could  she  feel  in  peo{)le  who  regarded  deeds 
of  blood  and  vengeance  as  acts  of  virtuous 
heroism  ? 

Once,  and  only  once  during  their  stay,  the 
Indians  had  passed  within  a  short  distance  of 
their  dwelling ;  but  they  were  in  full  chase  of  a 
bear,  which  had  been  seen  crossing  the  deep  ra- 
vine near  Mount  Ararat,  and  they  had  been  too 
intent  upon  their  game  to  notice  the  shanty,  or 
had  taken  it  for  the  shelter  of  some  trapper  if  it 
had  been  seen,  for  th^^y  never  turned  out  of  tlieir 
path,  and  Catharine,  who  was  alone  at  the  time, 
drawing  water  from  the  spring,  was  so  com- 
pletely concealed  by  the  high  bank  above  her, 
that  she  had  quite  escaped  their  notice.  For- 
tunately, Indiana  gave  the  two  boys  a  signal  to 
conceal  themselves  when  she  saw  them  enter 
the  ravine;  and  effectually  hidden  among  the 
thick  grey  mossy  trunks  of  the  cedars  at  the 
lake  shore,  they  remained  secure  from  molesta- 
tion, while  the  Indian  girl  dropped  noiselessly 
down  among  the  tangled  thicket  of  wild  vines 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


225 


•iver,  and 

ks.     The 

'  of  great 

of  these 

she    had 

ful  deeds 

t  reliance 

led  deeds 

virtuous 

stay,  the 

stance  of 

3hase  of  a 

3  deep  ra- 

.  been  too 

hantv,  or 

pper  if  it 

t  of  tlieir 

the  time, 

so  com- 

ove  her, 

e.     For- 

signal  to 

m   enter 

ong  the 

s  at  the 

molesta- 

iselessly 

Id  vines 


and  brushwood,  which  she  drew  cautiously  over 
her,  and  closed  her  eyes,  lest,  as  she  naively  re- 
marked, their  glitter  should  be  seen  and  betray 
her  to  her  enemies. 

It  was  a  moment  of  intense  anxiety  to  our 
poor  wanderers,  whose  terrors  were  more  excited 
on  behalf  of  the  young  Mohawk  than  for  them- 
selves, and  they  congratulated  her  on  her  escape 
with  affectionate  warmth. 

"  Are  my  white  brothers  afraid  to  die  ?""  was 
the  young  squaw's  half-scornful  reply.  "  Indiana 
is  the  daughter  of  a  brave:  she  fears  not  to 
die  I" 

The  latter  end  of  September  and  the  first 
week  in  October  had  been  stormy  and  even 
cold.  The  rainy  season,  however,  was  now 
over ;  the  nights  were  often  illuminated  by  the 
Aurora  borealis,  which  might  be  seen  forming 
an  arch  of  soft  and  lovely  brightness  over  the 
lake,  to  the  north  and  north-eastern  portions  of 
the  horizon,  or  shooting  upwards,  in  ever-vary- 
ing shafts  of  greenish  light,  now  hiding,  now  re- 
vealing the  stars,  which  shone  with  softened 
radiance  through  the  silvery  veil  that  dimmed 
their  beauty.  Sometimes  for  many  nights  to 
gether  the  same  appearance  might  be  seen,  and 
was  usually  the  forerunner  of  frosty  weather, 
though  occasionally  it  was  the  precursor  of  cold 
winds  and  heavy  rains. 


'^ 


'J 


j^tf 


it 

H 
1 

i 

<  a 


> 


226 


THE   CANADIAN   CllUSOES. 


WtKtu 

r 

r 


!Wii; 


I, 
t 


The  Indian  girl  regarded  it  with  superstitioud 
feehngs,  but  whether  as  an  omen  for  good  or  ill, 
Bhe  would  not  tell.  On  all  matters  connected 
with  her  religious  notions  she  was  shy  and  re- 
served, though  occasionally  she  unconsciously 
revealed  them.  Thus  the  warnings  of  death  or 
misfort'ines  were  revealed  to  her  by  certain  omi- 
nous sounds  in  the  woods,  the  appearance  of 
strange  birds  or  animals,  or  the  moanings  of 
others.  The  screeching  of  the  owl,  the  bleating 
of  the  doe,  or  barking  of  the  fox,  were  evil  au- 
guries, while  the  flight  of  the  eagle  and  the 
croaking  of  the  raven  were  omens  of  good.  She 
put  faith  in  dreams,  and  would  foretell  good  or 
evil  fortune  from  them ;  she  could  read  the 
morning  and  evening  clouds,  and  knew  from  vari- 
ous appearances  of  the  sky,  or  the  coming  or  de- 
parting of  certain  birds  or  insects,  changes  in  the 
atmosphere.  Her  ear  was  quick  in  distinguish- 
ing the  changes  in  the  voices  of  the  birds  or  ani- 
mals ;  she  knew  the  times  of  their  coming  and 
going,  and  her  eye  was  quick  to  see  as  her  ear  to 
detect  sounds.  Her  voice  was  soft,  and  low,  and 
plaintive,  and  she  delighted  in  imitating  the  little 
ballads  or  hymns  that  Catharine  sung ;  though 
Bhe  knew  nothing  of  their  meaning,  she  would 
catch  the  tunes,  and  sing  the  song  with  Catha- 
rine, touching  the  hearts  of  her  delighted  audi 
tors  by  the  rneloc|y  and  pathos  of  her  voice. 


erstitioud 
)od  or  ill, 
;onnected 
(  and  rc- 
iisciously 
death  or 
'tain  omi- 
irance  of 
miiigs  of 
J  bleating 
3  evil  au- 
and  the 
)od.    She 
1  good  or 
read   the 
Tom  vari- 
ing  or  de- 
^es  in  the 
[tinguish- 
tls  or  ani- 
ling  and 
ler  ear  to 
llow,  and 
Ithe  little 

though 
|e  would 

Catha- 
led  audi 

)ice. 


THE   CA^'ADIAX   CRUSOES. 


227 


The  season  called  Indian  summer  had  now 
arrived :  the  air  was  soft  and  mild,  almost  op- 
pressively warm ;  the  sun  looked  red  as  though 
seen  through  the  smoke-clouds  of  a  populous 
city.  A  soft  blue  haze  hung  on  the  bosom  of 
the  glassy  lake,  which  reflected  on  its  waveless 
surface  every  passing  shadow,  and  the  gorgeous 
tints  of  its  changing  woods  on  shore  and  island. 
Sometimes  the  stillness  of  the  air  was  relieved 
by  a  soft,  sighing  wind,  which  rustled  the  dying 
foliage  as  it  swept  by. 

The  Indian  summer  is  the  harvest  of  the 
Indian  tribes.  It  is  during  this  season  that  they 
hunt  and  shoot  the  wild  fowl  that  come  in 
their  annual  flights  to  visit  the  waters  of  the 
American  lakes  and  rivers ;  it  is  then  that  they 
gather  in  their  rice,  and  prepare  their  winter 
stores  of  meat,  and  fish,  and  furs.  The  Indian 
girl  knew  the  season  they  would  resort  to  cer- 
tain hunting-grounds.  They  were  constant,  and 
altered  not  their  customs ;  as  it  was  with  their 
fathers,  so  it  was  with  them. 

Louis  had  heard  so  much  of  the  Otonabee 
river  from  Indiana,  that  he  was  impatient  to  go 
and  explore  the  entrance,  and  the  shores  of  the 
lake  on  that  side,  which  hitherto  they  had  not 
ventur-^d  to  do,  for  fear  of  being  surprised  by 
the  Indians.     "  Some  fine  day,"  said  Louis,  "  we 


■J 


n 

\ 


] 


228 


THE   CANADIAN    CHUSOES. 


will  go  out  in  the  canoe,  explore  the  distant 
islands,  and  go  up  the  river  a  little  way." 

Hector  advised  visiting  all  the  islands  by 
turns,  beginning  at  the  little  islet  which  looks 
in  the  distance  like  a  boat  in  full  sail ;  it  is  level 
with  the  water,  and  has  only  three  or  four  trees 
upon  it.  The  name  they  had  given  to  it  yas 
"Ship  Island."  The  Indians  have  some  name 
for  it  which  I  have  forgotten ;  but  it  means,  I 
have  been  told,  "  Witch  Island."  Hector's  plan 
met  with  general  approbation,  and  they  resolved 
to  take  provisions  with  them  for  several  days,  and 
visit  the  islands  and  go  up  the  river,  passing  the 
night  under  the  shelter  of  the  thick  trees  on  the 
shore  wherever  they  found  a  pleasant  halting- 
place. 

The  weather  was  mild  and  warm,  the  lake 
was  as  clear  and  calm  as  a  mirror,  and  in  joyous 
mood  our  little  party  embarked  and  paddled  up 
the  lake,  first  to  Ship  Island — but  this  did  not 
detain  them  many  minutes.  They  then  went  to 
Grape  Island,  which  they  so  named  from  the 
abundance  of  wild  vines,  now  rich  with  purple 
clusters  of  the  ripe  grapes, — tart,  but  still  not  to 
be  despised  by  our  young  adventurers;  and 
they  brought  away  a  large  birch  basket  heaped 
up  with  the  fruit.  "  Ah,  if  we  had  but  a  good 
cake  of  maple   sugar,   now,  to    preserve    oui 


THE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


229 


distant 

ids   by 
1  looks 
is  level 
ir  trees 
it  yas 
e  name 
leans,  I 
ir's  plan 
'esolved 
lys,  and 
sing  the 
3  on  the 
halting- 


ne 


lake 


joyous 

Lied  up 

lid  not 

^ent  to 

)m  the 

purple 

not  to 

;    and 

|ieaped 

la  good 

re    oui 


grapes   with,  and  make  such  grape  jelly  as  my 
mother  makes  1"  said  Louis. 

"  If  we  find  out  a  su2;ar-bush  we  will  manacre 
to  make  plenty  of  sugar,"  said  Catharine; 
**  there  are  maples  not  two  hundred  yards  from 
the  shanty,  near  the  side  of  the  steep  bank  to 
the  east.  You  remember  the  pleasant  spot 
which  we  named  the  Happy  Valley,*  where  the 
bright  creek  runs,  dancing  along  so  merrily,  be- 
low the  pine-ridge?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  the  same  that  winds  along  near  the 
foot  of  Bare-hill,  where  the  water-cresses  grow." 

*'  Yes,  where  I  gathered  the  milk- weed  the 
other  day." 

"  What  a  beautiful  pasture-field  that  will 
make,  when  it  is  cleared  1"  said  Hector,  thought- 
fully. 

"  Hector  is  always  planning  about  fields,  and 
clearing  great  farms,"  said  Louis,  laughing. 
"  We  shall  see  Hec  a  great  man  one  of  these 
days ;  I  think  he  has  in  his  own  mind  brushed, 
and  burned,  and  logged  up  all  the  fine  flats  and 
table-land  on  the  plains  before  now,  ay,  and 
cropped  it  all  with  wheat,  and  peas,  and  Indian 


corn. 


?j 


"  We  will  have  a  clearing  and  a  nice  field  of 


*  A  lovely  valley  to  the  east  of  Mount  Ararat,  now  belong- 
ing to  a  worthy  and  industrious  family  of  the  name  of  Brown. 
I  wish  Hector  could  see  it  as  it  now  is, — a  cultivated  fertile  farm. 
20 


:>^ 


1 

! 


I 
J 

4 

1 


230 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


lOiJ'' 


V'  II  in 
fgf  ■*.■*% 

r- 
I. 

v., 


a 


corn  next  year,  if  we  live,"  replied  Hector; 
*'  that  corn  that  we  found  in  the  canoe  will  be  a 
treasure." 

"  Yes,  and  the  corn-cob  you  got  on  Bare-hill," 
said  Catharine.  "How  lucky  we  have  been! 
We  shall  be  so  happy  when  we  see  our  little 
field  of  corn  flourishing  round  the  shanty  I  It 
was  a  good  thing,  Hec,  that  you  went  to  the 
Indian  camp  that  daj^,  though  both  Louis  and  I 
were  very  miserable  while  you  were  absent ;  but 
you  see  God  must  have  directed  you,  that  the 
life  of  this  poor  girl  might  be  saved,  to  be  a 
comfort  to  us.  Every  thing  has  prospered  well 
with  us  since  she  came  to  us.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  we  try  to  make  a  Christian  of  her,  and 
so  God  blesses  all  our  endeavours." 

"  We  are  told,"  said  Hector,  "  that  there  is 
joy  with  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth;  doubtless  it  is  a  joyful  thing  when 
the  hea-Lhen  that  knew  not  the  name  of  God 
are  taught  to  glorify  his  holy  name." 

Indiana,  while  exploring,  had  captured  a  por- 
cupine ;  she  declared  that  she  should  have  plenty 
of  quills  for  edging  baskets  and  mocassins; 
besides,  she  said,  the  meat  was  white  and  good 
to  eat.  Hector  looked  with  a  suspicious  eye 
upon  the  little  animal,  doubting  the  propriety 
of  eating  its  flesh,  though  he  had  learned  to  eat 
musk-rats,  and  consider  them  good  meat,  baked 


THE    CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


231 


lector ; 
ill  be  a 

re-hill," 
been ! 
Lir  little 
tyl  It 
to  the 
is  and  I 
nt ;  but 
hat  the 
to  be  a 
ed  well 
3S  it  is 
ler,  and 

there  is 
ler  that 
5  when 
of  God 

a  por- 
plenty 
assins ; 
d  good 
us  eye 
)priety 
to  eat 
baked 


in  Louis's  Indian  oven,  or  roasted  on  a  foiked 
Btick,  before  the  fire.  The  Indian  porcupine  is 
a  small  animal,  not  a  very  great  deal  larger  than 
the  common  British  hedgehog  ;  the  quills,  how- 
ever, are  longer  and  stronger,  and  varied  with 
alternate  clouded  marks  of  pure  white  and 
dark  brownish  grey  ;  they  are  minutely  barbed, 
so  that  if  one  enters  the  flesh  it  is  with  difficulty 
extracted,  but  will  work  through  of  itself  in  an 
opposite  direction,  and  can  then  be  easily  pulled 
out.  Dogs  and  cattle  often  suffer  great  incon- 
venience from  getting  their  muzzles  filled  with 
the  quills  of  the  porcupine,  the  former  when 
worrying  the  poor  little  animal,  and  the  latter 
by  accidentally  meeting  a  dead  one  among  the 
herbage;  great  inflammation  will  sometimes 
attend  the  extraction.  Indians  often  lose  val- 
uable hounds  from  this  cause.  Beside  porcu- 
pines, Indiana  told  her  companions,  there  were 
some  fine  butter-nut  trees  on  the  island,  and 
they  could  collect  a  bag  full  in  a  very  short 
time.  This  was  good  news,  for  the  butter-nut  is 
sweet  and  pleasant,  almost  equal  to  the  walnut, 
of  which  it  is  a  species. 

The  day  was  passed  pleasantly  enough  in  col- 
lecting nuts  and  grapes ;  but  as  this  island  did 
not  afltbrd  any  good  cleared  spot  for  passing  the 
night,  and,  moreover,  was  tenanted  by  black 
snakes,  several  of  which  made  their  appearance 


%«' 


4' 


^1 
'1 


•« 

i 
I 

I 


232 


THE   CAXADTAN   CRUS0E3. 


c 

•«lij 

;:i: 

III 

mm. 

!■ 

m- 

fK,: 

'■■*» 

p. 

Him. 

•»N, 

•'( 

f  ■ 

t.. 


among  the  stones  near  the  edge  of  the  water, 
they  agreed  by  common  council  to  go  to  Long 
Island,  where  Indiana  said  there  was  an  old 
log-house,  the  walls  of  which  were  still  stand- 
ing, and  where  there  was  dry  moss  in  plenty, 
which  would  make  them  a  comfortable  bed  for 
the  night.  This  old  log-house  she  said  had 
been  built,  she  heard  the  Indians  say,  by  a 
French  Canadian  trapper,  who  used  to  visit  the 
lake  some  years  ago ;  he  was  on  friendly  terms 
with  the  chiefs,  who  allowed  him  many  privi- 
leges, and  he  bought  their  furs,  and  took  them 
down  the  lake,  through  the  river  Trent,  to  some 
station-house  on  the  great  lake.  They  found 
they  should  have  time  enough  to  land  and  de- 
posit their  nuts  and  grapes  and  paddle  to  Long 
Island  before  sunset.  Upon  the  western  part 
of  this  fine  island  they  had  several  times  landed 
and  passed  some  hours,  exploring  its  shores ; 
but  Indiana  told  them,  to  reach  the  old  log-house 
they  must  enter  the  low  swampy  bay  to  the  east, 
at  an  opening  which  she  called  Indian  Cove. 
To  do  this  required  some  skill  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  canoe,  which  was  rather  over-loaded 
for  so  light  a  vessel ;  and  the  trees  grew  so  close 
and  thick  that  they  had  some  difficulty  in  push- 
ing their  way  through  them  without  injuring 
its  frail  sides.  These  trees  or  bushes  were 
chiefly  black  elder,  high-bush  cranberries,  dog- 


he  water, 
» to  Tiong 
3  an  old 
ill  stand- 
n  plenty, 
e  bed  for 
said  had 
ay,  by  a 
>  visit  the 
Jly  terms 
.ny  privi- 
ook  them 
t,  to  some 
ley  found 
d  and  de- 
}  to  Long 
tern  part 
es  landed 
shores ; 
og-house 
the  east, 
n  Cove. 
I  manage- 
jr-loaded 
so  close 
I  in  push- 
[injuring 
)s  were 
jes,  dog- 


m 


THE   CAXADTAN   CRUSOES. 


233 


wood,  willows,  and,  as  they  proceeded  further, 
and  there  was  ground  of  a  more  solid  nature, 
cedar,  poplar,  swamp  oak,  and  soft  maple,  with 
silver  birch  and  wild  cnerrics.  Lonor  strinsjs  of 
silvery-grey  tree-moss  hung  dangling  over  their 
heads,  the  bark  and  roots  of  the  birch  and 
cedars  were  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
green  moss,  but  there  was  a  dampness  and  close- 
ness in  this  place  that  made  it  ftir  from  whole- 
some, and  the  little  band  of  voyagers  were  not 
very  sorry  when  the  water  became  too  shallow 
to  admit  of  the  canoe  making  its  way  through 
the  swampy  channel,  and  they  landed  on  the 
banks  of  a  small  circular  pond,  as  round  as  a 
ring,  and  nearly  surrounded  by  tall  trees,  hoary 
with  moss  and  lichens ;  large  water-lilies  floated 
on  the  surface  of  this  miniature  lake,  and  the 
brilliant  red  berries  of  the  high-bush  cranberry 
and  the  purple  clusters  of  grapes  festooned  the 
trees. 

"A  famous  breeding-place  this  must  be  for 
ducks,"  observed  Louis. 

"  And  for  flowers,"  said  Catharine,  "  and  for 
grapes  and  cranberries.  There  is  always  some 
beauty  or  some  usefulness  to  be  found,  however 
lonely  the  spot." 

"  A  fine  place  for  musk-rats,  and  minks,  and 

fishes,"  said  Hector,  looking  round.     "  The  old 

trapper  knew  what  he  was  about  when  he  made 
20* 


'1 

\ 

'J 


1 


234 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


p' 

r-. 

'i 

r 

»., 


liis  lodge  uoar  tliis  ])C)iiil.  And  tluTO,  sure 
enouii:h,  is  the  log-hut,  and  not  so  bad  :i  own 
either;"  and  serand)]ing  up  the  bank  he  enten-d 
the  deserted  little  tenement,  well  pleased  to  find 
it  in  tolerable  repair.  There  were  the  ashes  on 
the  stone-hearth,  just  as  it  had  been  left  yeai's 
baek  by  the  old  trapper  ;  some  rough-hew n 
shelves  ;  a  rude  bedstead  of  cedar-})oles  still  oe- 
cupied  a  eorner  of  the  httle  dwelling ;  heaps 
of  old  dry  moss  and  grass  lay  upon  the  ground ; 
and  the  little  squaw  pointed  with  one  of  her 
silent  laughs  to  a  collection  of  broken  egg- 
shells, where  some  wild  duck  had  sat  and 
hatched  her  downv  brood  amonoj  the  soft  mate- 
rials  which  she  had  found  and  appropriated  to 
her  own  purpose.  The  only  things  pertaining 
to  the  former  possessor  of  the  log-hut  were  an 
old,  rusty,  battered  tin  pannikin,  now,  alas ! 
unfit  for  holding  water  ;  a  bit  of  a  broken 
earthen  whisky  jar ;  a  rusty  nail,  which  Louis 
pounced  upon,  and  pocketed,  or  rather  pouched, 
— for  he  had  substituted  a  fine  pouch  of  deer- 
skin for  his  worn-out  pocket ;  and  a  fishing- 
line  of  good  stout  cord,  which  was  wound  on  a 
Bplinter  of  red  cedar,  and  carefully  stuck  between 
one  of  the  rafters  and  the  roof  of  the  shanty. 
A  rusty  but  ef&cient  hook  was  attached  to  the 
line,  and  Louis,  who  was  the  finder,  was  quite 
overjoyed  at  his  good  fortune  in  making  so 


m 


THE   CANADIAN   OUL'SOES. 


23i 


here,  sure 

l)M(l  II  one 

he  eiitei't'(l 

Bed  to  iinil 

e  ashes  on 

left  yeiirrf 

)Ugh-lie\vii 

les  still  oe- 

ig ;    heaps 

le  ground ; 

ne  of  her 

Dken  eo'ix- 

[    sat   and 

soft  mate- 

bpriated  to 

pertaining 

were  an 

ow,  alas ! 

a  broken 

eh  Louis 

pouched, 

of  deer- 

fishing- 

)und  on  a 

between 

e  shanty. 

ed  to  the 

vas  quite 

aking  so 


valuable  an  addition  to  his  fishing-tackle.  IToc- 
tor  got  only  an  odd  worn-out  mocassin,  which 
he  chucked  into  the  little  pond  in  disdain ; 
while  Catharine  declared  she  woidd  keep  the 
old  tin  pot  as  a  relic,  and  carefully  deposited  it 
in  the  canoe. 

As  they  made  their  way  into  the  interior  of 
the  island,  they  found  that  there  were  a  great 
many  line  sugar  maples  which  had  been  tapped 
by  some  one,  as  the  boys  thought,  by  the  old 
trapper;  but  Indiana,  on  examining  the  inci- 
sions in  the  trees,  and  the  remnants  of  birch- 
hark  vessels  that  lay  mouldering  on  the  earth 
below  them,  declared  them  to  have  been  the 
work  of  her  own  people ;  and  long  and  sadly 
did  the  young  girl  look  upon  these  simple 
memorials  of  a  race  of  whom  she  was  the  last 
living  remnant.  The  young  girl  stood  there  in 
melancholy  mood,  a  solitary,  isolated  being, 
with  no  kindred  tie  upon  the  earth  to  make 
life  dear  to  her ;  a  stranger  in  the  land  of  her 
fathers,  associating  wdth  those  whose  waj^s  were 
not  her  ways,  nor  their  thoughts  her  thoughts ; 
whose  language  was  scarcely  known  to  her, 
whose  God  was  not  the  God  of  her  flithers. 
yet  the  dark  eyes  of  the  Indian  girl  were  not 
dimmed  with  tears  as  she  thought  of  these 
things ;  she  had  learned  of  her  people  to  suffer, 
and  be  still. 


'J 

n 
U 

{ 

•■i 

A 

3 

i 

on 

1 


236 


THE   CANADIAN    CiiUSOES. 


ifriite,, 


r 

■''4, 

•♦n. 

' 

'H 

e; 

'1 

h 

1.. 

•  11 

Silent  and  patient  slic  stood,  with  her  melan* 
clioly  gaze  bent  on  the  earth,  when  she  felt  the 
gentle  hand  of  Catliarine  laid  upon  her  arm, 
and  then  kindly  and  lovingly  passed  round  her 
neck,  as  she  whispered, — 


(i 


Indiana,  I  will  be  to  vou  as  a  sister, 

II  use 


and 
will  love  you  and  cherish  you,  because  you  are 
an  orphan  girl,  and  alone  in  the  world  ;  but 
God  loves  you,  and  will  make  you  happy.  Jfo 
is  a  Father  to  the  fatherless,  and  the  Friend  of 
the  destitute,  and  to  them  that  have  no  helper.'' 

The  words  of  kindness  and  love  need  no  in- 
terpretation ;  no  book-learning  is  necessary  to 
make  them  understood.  The  young,  the  old, 
the  deaf,  the  dumb,  the  blind,  can  read  this  uni- 
versal language ;  its  very  silence  is  often  more 
eloquent  than  words — the  gentle  pressure  of  the 
hand,  the  half-echoed  sigh,  the  look  of  sympathy 
will  penetrate  to  the  very  heart,  and  unlock  its 
hidden  stores  of  human  tenderness  and  love. 
The  rock  is  smitten,  and  the  waters  gush  forth, 
a  bright  and  living  stream,  to  refresh  and  fer- 
tilize the  thirsty  soul. 

The  heart  of  the  poor  mourner  was  touched : 
she  bowed  down  her  head  upon  the  hand  that 
held  her  so  kindly  in  its  sisterly  grasp,  and  wept 
soft  sweet  human  tears  full  of  grateful  lo\e, 
while  she  whispered,  in  her  own  low  plaintive 
voice,   "  My   white   sister,  I   kiss   you  in    m\ 


ul 
t 


s. 


THE   CANADIAN    CKLSUES. 


237 


h  her  Tnelan« 
1  slie  felt  the 
on  her  arm, 
3(1  round  Iilt 

a  sister,  ami 
ause  you  are 

world  ;  but 
happy.  J  To 
16  Friend  of 
3  no  helper.'' 
}  need  no  in- 
necessary  to 
mg,  the  old, 
ead  this  uni- 
5  often  more 

ssure  of  the 
)f  sympathy 
unlock  its 
and  love. 

gush  forth, 

sh  and  fer- 

IS  touched : 
hand  that 
p,  and  wept 
iteful  love, 
w  plaintive 
ou   in    mv 


heart;  T  will  love  the  Gi»d  of  my  white  bro* 
thers,  and  1x3  his  child." 

The  two  friends  now  hu.sicd  themselves  in 
preparing  the  evening  meal  :  they  found  Louis 
and  Hector  had  lighted  u|)  a  charming  blaze  on 
the  desolate  hearth.  A  few  branches  of  cedar 
tw'sted  together  by  Catharine,  made  a  service- 
able broom,  with  which  she  swept  the  floor, 
giving  to  the  deserted  dwelling  a  neat  and  com- 
fortable asj)ect ;  some  big  stones  were  quickly 
rolled  in,  and  made  to  answer  for  seats  in  the 
chimney  corner.  The  new-found  fishing-line 
was  soon  put  into  requisition  by  Louis,  and 
with  very  little  delay,  a  fine  dish  of  black  bass, 
broiled  on  the  coals,  was  added  to  their  store 
of  dried  venison  and  roasted  bread-roots,  which 
they  found  in  abundance  on  a  low  spot  on  the 
island.  Grapes  and  butternuts,  which  Hector 
cracked  with  stones  by  way  of  nut-crackers, 
finished  their  sylvan  meal.  The  boys  stretched 
themselves  to  sleep  on  the  ground,  with  their 
feet,  Indian  fashion,  to  the  fire ;  while  the  two 
girls  occupied  the  mossy  couch  which  they  had 
newly  spread  with  fragrant  cedar  and  hemlock 
boughs. 

The  next  island  that  claimed  their  attention 
was  Sugar-Maple  Island,*  a  fine,  thickly- wopded 

*  Sugiir  Tsland,  a  cimrmiag  object  from  the  picturtt^'jue 
cottage  of  Alfred  flay  ward,  Esq. 


« » 


"^r^ 


i 


i  1 

.  I 

I 

1     -..■» 


] 


238 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


1    I 


island,  rising  with  steep  rocky  banks  from  tlio 
water.  A  beautiful  object,  but  too  densely 
woodec!  to  admit  of  our  party  penetrating  be- 
yond  a  few  yards  of  its  shores. 

The   next  island  thev   named  the  Beaver,^ 

V  7 

from  its  resemblance  in  shape  to  that  animal. 
A  fine,  high,  oval  island  beyond  this  they  named 
Black  Island,!  from  its  dark  evergreens  ;  the 
next  was  that  which  seemed  most  to  excite  the 
interest  of  their  Indian  guide,  although  but  a 
small  stony  island,  scantily  clothed  with  trees, 
lower  down  the  lake.  This  place  she  called 
Spooke  Island,:}:  which  means  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  a  place  for  the  dead;  it  is  sometimes 
called  Spirit  Island,  and  here,  in  times  past, 
used  the  Indian  people  to  bury  their  dead.  The 
island  is  now  often  the  resort  of  parties  of  plea- 

*  The  Beaver,  commonly  called  Sheep  Island,  from  some 
person  having  pastured  a  lew  sheep  upon  it  some  few  years  aj^o. 
I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  preservin,!?  the  name,  to  which  it 
bears  an  obvious  resemblance ;  the  nose  of  the  Beavor  lies  to- 
wards the  west,  the  tail  to  the  cast.  This  island  is  nearly 
opi"tosite  to  Gore's  Landing,  and  forms  a  pleasing  object  from 
the  windows  and  verandah  of  Chiverton,  the  house  of  niv 
esteemed  friend,  William  Falkner,  Esq.,  the  Patriarch  of  tlio 
Plains,  as  he  has  often  been  termed ;  one  of  the  only  residents 
on  the  Kice  Lake  plains  for  many  years;  one  of  the  few  geutle- 
uicn  who  have  taste  enough  to  be  charmed  with  this  lovely 
tract  of  country,  and  to  appreciate  its  agricultural  resources, 
which,  of  late,  have  been  so  fully  developed. 

t  Black  Island,  the  sixth  from  the  head  of  the  lake;  an  oval 
island,  remarkal)lo  for  its  evergreens. 

X  Aj'p  ;u  lix  il.  ' 


5. 


ks  from  tlio 
too  densely 
etrating  be* 

le  Beaver,^ 
that  animal. 

they  named 
greens  ;  the 
)  excite  the 
Lougli  but  a 

witli  trees, 
i  she  called 
the  Indian 
J  sometimes 
times  past, 

dead.    The 

ies  of  plea- 

|ncl,  from  some 
tow  vears  a>ro. 

|ne,  to  which  it 
Beavor  lies  to- 
laiul   ii*  nearly 

|ug  object  from 
house  of  my 
Litriarcli  of  tho 
only  residents 
,he  few  geutle- 
|itli  this  lovely 
ml  resources, 

lako ;  an  oval 


TUE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


239 


sure,  who,  from  its  being  grassy  and  open,  find 
it  more  available  than  those  which  are  densely 
wooded.  The  young  Mohawk  regarded  it  with 
feelings  of  superstitious  awe,  and  would  not 
uffer  Ilector  to  'and  the  canoe  on  its  rocky 
shores. 

'•  It  is  a  place  of  spirits,"  she  said ;  "  the 
ghosts  of  my  fathers  will  be  angry  if  we  go 
there."  Even  her  young  companions  felt  that 
they  were  upon  sacred  ground,  and  gazed  with 
silent  reverence  upon  the  burial  isle. 

Strongly  imbued  with  a  love  of  the  marvel- 
lous, which  they  hod  derived  from  their  High- 
land origin,  Indiana's  respect  for  the  spirits  of 
her  ancestors  was  regarded  as  most  natural,  and 
in  silence,  as  if  fearing  to  disturb  the  solemnity 
of  the  spot,  they  resumed  their  paddles,  and 
after  a  while  reached  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Otonabee,  which  was  divided  into  two  separate 
channels  by  a  long,  low  point  of  swampy  land 
covered  with  stunted,  mossy  bushes  and  trees, 
rushes,  drift-wood,  and  aquatic  plants.  Indi- 
ana told  them  this  river  flowed  from  the  north, 
and  that  it  was  many  days'  journey  up  to  the 
lakes  ;  to  illustrate  its  course,  she  drew  with  her 
paddle  a  long  line  with  sundry  curves  and 
broader  spaces,  some  longer,  some  smaller,  with 
bays  and  inlets,  which  she  gave  them  to  under- 
stand was  the  chain  of  lakes  that  she  spoke  of. 


'.fi-a 


I 


240 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


Q..^ 

■*«|;.|',., 

pKMi,... ',';■■■ 

JP»'''lM|ikf„„,^ 

P'^'  * 

■*K«>«*i|j, 

«'■     ■ 

>, 

»,,              t 

There  were  beautiful  hunting- (grounds  on  the 
borders  of  these  lakes,  and  many  fine  waterfalls 
and  rocky  islands;  she  had  been  taken  up  to 
these  waters  during  the  time  of  her  captivity. 
The  Ojebwas,  she  said,  were  a  branch  of  the 
great  Chippewa  nation,  who  owned  much  land 
and  great  waters  thereabouts. 

Compared  with  the  creeks  and  streams  that 
they  had  seen  hitherto,  the  Otonabee  appeared  a 
majestic  river,  and  an  object  of  great  admiration 
and  curiosity,  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  were 
the  high  road  leading  up  to  an  unknown  far-oft' 
land — a  land  of  dark,  my-terious,  impenetrable 
forests, — flowing  on,  flo\  ■  m,  in  lonely  ma- 
jesty, reflecting  on  its  traL.f.^uil  bosom  the  blue 
sky,  the  dark  pines,  and  grey  cedars, — the  pure 
ivory  water-lily,  and  every  passing  shadow  of 
bird  or  leaf  that  flitted  across  its  surface — so 
quiet  was  the  onward  flow  of  its  waters. 

A  few  brilliant  leaves  yet  lingered  on  the  soft 
maples  and  crimson- tinted  oaks,  but  the  glory 
of  the  forest  had  departed ;  the  silent  fall  of  many 
a  sear  and  yellow  leaf  told  of  the  death  of  sum- 
mer and  of  winter's  coming  reign.  Yet  the  air 
was  wrapt  in  a  deceitful  stillness;  no  breath  of 
wind  moved  the  trees  or  dimpled  the  water. 
Bright  wreaths  of  scarlet  berries  and  wild  grapes 
hung  in  festoons  among  the  faded  foliage.  The 
siJence  of  the  forest  was  unbroken,  save  by  the 


THE   CAXAUIAX   CRUS0E3. 


2U 


ds  on  the 
waterfalls 
i.en  up  to 
captivity, 
ch  of  the 
luch  land 

reams  that 
appeared  a 
id  miration 
s  if  it  were 
)wn  far-oft' 
penetrable 
lonely  ma- 
tt the  blue 
the  pure 
hadow  of 
rface — so 
s. 

)n  the  soft 
the  glory 
11  of  many 
:h  of  sum- 
'et  the  air 
Ibreath  of 
be  water, 
lild  grapes 
]ge.  The 
^e  by  the 


quick  tapping  of  the  little  midland  woodpecker, 
or  the  shrill  scream  of  the  blue  jay  ;  the  whirring 
sound  of  the  large  white  and  grey  duck,  (called 
by  the  frequenters  of  these  lonely  waters  the 
whistlewing,)  as  its  wings  swept  the  waters  ia 
its  flight,  or  the  light  dripping  of  the  paddle, 
so  still,  so  quiet  was  the  scene. 

As  the  dav  was  now  far  advanced,  the  Indian 
girl  advised  them  either  to  encamp  for  the  night 
on  the  river  bank,  or  to  u«e  all  speed  in  return- 
ing. She  seemed  to  view  the  aspects  of  the  hea- 
vens witii  some  anxiety.  Vast  volumes  of  light 
copper-tinted  clouds  were  rising,  the  sun  seen 
through  its  hazv  veil  looked  red  and  dim,  and  a 
hot  sultrv  air  unrelieved  bv  a  breath  of  refresh- 
ing  wind  oppressed  our  j^oung  voyagers ;  and 
though  the  same  coppery  clouds  and  red  sun  had 
been  seen  for  several  successive  days,  a  sort  of 
instinctive  feeling  prompted  the  desire  in  all  to 
return;  and  after  a  few  minutes'  rest  and  re- 
freshment, they  turned  their  little  bark  towards 
the  lake ;  and  it  was  we41  that  they  did  so ;  by 
the  time  thev  had  reached  the  middle  of  the  lake, 
the  stillness  of  the  air  was  rapidly  changing. 
The  rose-tinted  clouds,  that  had  lain  so  long 
piled  upon  each  other  in  mountainous  ridges, 
began  to  move  upwards,  at  first  slowly,  then 
with  rapidly  accelerated  motion.     There  was  a 

hollow  moaning  in  the  pine  tops,  and  by  fits  a 
21 


\ 


1    « 


1 


242 


THE   CAXADIAX   C. HUSOES. 


1^     ' 


iiitllill; 


gust  J  breeze  swept  the  surface  of  the  water, 
raising  it  into  rough,  short,  white-crested  ridges. 
These  signs  were  pointed  out  by  Indiana  as 
the  harbinger  of  a  rising  hurricane  :  and  now  a 
swift  spark  of  light  like  a  falling  star  glanced  on 
the  water,  as  if  there  to  quench  its  fiery  light. 
Again  the  Indian  girl  raised  her  dark  hand  and 
pointed  to  the  rolling  storm-clouds,  to  the  crested 
waters,  and  the  moving  pine  tops;  then  to  the 
head  of  the  Beaver  Island — it  was  the  one 
nearest  to  then).  With  an  arm  of  energy  she 
wielded  the  paddle,  with  an  eye  of  fire  she 
directed  the  course  of  their  little  vessel,  for  well 
she  knew  their  danger  and  the  need  for  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  reach  the  nearest  point  of 
land.  Low  muttering  peals  of  thunder 'were 
now  heard,  the  wind  was  rising  with  electric 
speed.  'Away  flew  the  light  bark,  with  the 
swiftness  of  a  bird,  over  the  water ;  the  tempest 
was  above,  around,  and  beneath.  The  hollow 
crash  of  the  forest  trees  as  they  bowed  to  the 
earth  could  be  heard,  sullenly  sounding  from 
shore  to  shore.  And  now  the  Indian  girl,  fling- 
ing back  her  black  streaming  hair  from  her 
brow,  knelt  at  the  head  of  the  canoe,  and  with 
renewed  vigour  plied  the  paddle.  The  waters, 
lawshed  into  a  state  of  turbulence  by  the  violence 
of  the  storm,  lifted  the  canoe  up  and  down,  but 
no  word  was  spoken — they  eaf/h  felt  the  great- 


[10  water, 
ed  ridges, 
ndiana  aa 
md  now  a 
jlanced  on 
.ery  light, 
hand  and 
:he  crested 
len  to  the 
i   the    one 
energy  she 
>f  fire  she 
el,  for  well 
for  strain - 
point  of 
nder  Vere 
th  electric 
with   the 
le  tempest 
e  hollow 
ed  to  the 
Lmg  from 
Igirl,  fling- 
Ifrom  her 
and  with 
le  waters, 
violence 
lown,  but 
the  great- 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


243 


ness  of  the  peril,  but  they  also  knew  that  they 
were  in  the  hands  of  Ilim  who  can  say  to  the 
tempest-tossed  waves,  "  Peace  be  still,"  and  they 
obey  Him. 

Every  effort  was  made  to  gain  the  nearest 
island;  to  reach  the  mainland  was  impossible, 
for  the  rain  poured  down  a  blinding  deluge  ;  it 
was  with  difficulty  the  little  craft  was  kept  afloat, 
by  bailing  out  the  water ;  to  do  this,  Louis  was 
fain  to  use  his  cap,  and  Catharine  assisted  with 
the  old  tin  pot  which  she  had  fortunately  brought 
from  the  trapper's  shanty. 

The  tempest  was  at  its  height  when  they 
reached  the  nearest  point  of  the  Beaver,  and 
joyful  was  the  grating  sound  of  the  canoe  as  it 
was  vigorously  pushed  up  on  the  shingly  beach, 
beneath  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  overhanging 
trees,  where,  perfectly  exhausted  by  the  exertions 
they  had  made,  dripping  with  rain,  and  over- 
powered by  the  terrors  of  the  storm,  they  threw 
themselves  on  the  ground,  and  in  safety  watched 
its  progress — thankful  for  an  escape  from  such 
imminent  peril. 

Thus  ended  the  Indian  summer — so  deceitful 
in  its  calmness  and  its  beauty.  The  next  day 
saw  the  ground  white  with  snow,  and  hardened 
into  stone  by  a  premature  frost.  Our  poor 
voyagers  were  not  long  in  quitting  the  shelter  of 
the  Beaver  Island,  and  betaking  them  once  more 


III 

"Vttfc.- 


ill-  ..;|ti 
■  "1 

■f.f 


1 


.'t 


\ 


I 


>.. 


I      n 


244: 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


3 


""'■'iilliU 


to  their  ark  of  refuge — the  log-house  on  Mount 
Ararat. 

The  winter,  that  year,  set  in  with  unusual 
severity  some  weeks  sooner  than  usual,  so  that 
from  the  begining  of  November  to  the  middle 
of  April  the  snow  never  entirely  left  the  ground. 
The  lake  was  soon  covered  with  ice,  and  by  the 
month  of  December  it  was  one  compact  solid 
sheet  from  shore  to  shore. 


l^HE  CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


245 


n  Mount 


unusual 
I,  so  that 
e  middle 
3  ground, 
id  by  the 
)act  solid 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  Sacred  oy  the  red  and  noisy  light." — Colebidob. 

TTECTOR  and  Louis  had  now  little  employ* 
-■— *-  ment,  excepting  chopping  fire-wood,  which 
was  no  very  arduous  task  for  two  stout  healthy 
lads,  used  from  childhood  to  handling  the  axe. 
Trapping,  and  hunting,  and  snaring  hares,  were 
occupations  whicli  they  pursued  more  for  the  ex- 
citement and  exercise  than  from  hunger,  as 
they  had  laid  by  abundence  of  dried  venison, 
fish,  and  birds,  besides  a  plentiful  store  of  rice. 
They  now  visited  those  trees  thaj  they  had 
marked  in  the  summer,  where  they  had  noticed 
the  bees  hiving,  and  cut  them  down ;  in  one  they 
got  more  than  a  pailful  of  rich  honey-comb,  and 
others  yielded  some  more,  some  less ;  this  afforded 
them  a  delicious  addition  to  their  boiled  rice,  and 
dried  acid  fruits.  They  might  have  melted  the 
A^ax,  and  burned  candles  of  it;  but  this  v^as  a 
'efinement  of  luxurv  that  never  once  occurred  to 
our  young  housekeepers:  the  dry  pine  knots  that 
are  found  in  the  woods  are  the  settlers'  candles; 
but  Catharine  made  some  very  good  vinegar 

with  the   refuse  of  the  honey  ar»d.  combs,  by 
•     2' 


23l 


T<«..1J| 


246 


THE  CAXADIAN   CKUSOES. 


#J»IHII(!|.ft||| 


mil; 

1 


ill  I 

'ill 


^1! 


pouring  water  on  it,  and  leaving  it  to  fcrmeni 
in  a  warm  nook  of  tlie  chimney,  in  one  of  the 
birch-bark  vessels,  and  this  was  an  excellent 
substitute  for  salt  as  a  seasoning  to  the  fresh 
meat  and  fish.  Like  the  Indians,  they  were  no\r 
reconciled  to  the  want  of  this  seasonable  article. 

Indiana  seemed  to  enjoy  the  cold  weather ; 
the  lake,  though  locked  up  to  every  one  else, 
was  open  to  her  ;  with  the  aid  of  the  tomahawk 
she  patiently  made  an  opening  in  the  ice,  and 
over  this  she  built  a  little- shelter  of  pine  boughs 
stuck  into  the  ice.  Armed  with  a  sharp  spear 
carved  out  of  hardened  wood,  she  would  lie  upon 
the  ice  and  patiently  await  the  rising  of  some 
large  fish  to  the  air-hole,  when  dexterously 
plunging  it  into  the  unwary  creature,  she  dragged 
it  to  the  surface.  Many  a  noble  fish  jiid  the 
young  squaw  bring  home,  and  cast  at  the  feet 
of  him  whom  she  had  tacitly  elected  as  her  lord 
and  master;  to  him  she  offered  the  voluntary 
service  of  a  faithful  and  devoted  servant — I 
might  almost  have  said,  slave. 

During  the  middle  of  December  there  were 
some  days  of  such  intense  cold,  that  even  our 
young  Crusoes,  hardy  as  they  were,  preferred 
the  blazing  log-fire  and  warm  ingle  nook,  to  the 
frozen  lake  and  cutting  north-west  wind  which 
blew  the  loose  snow  in  blinding  diifts  over  its 
bleak,  unsheltered  surface.     Clad  in  the  warm 


THE   CANADIAN   CliUSOES. 


247 


o  fcrmeni 

ne  of  the 

excellent 

the  fresh 

were  no\r 

)le  article. 

weather ; 

one  else, 

omahawk 

3  ice,  and 

le  boughs 

xrp  spear 

Hie  upon 

;  of  some 

xterously 

3  dragged 

iiid  the 

the  feet 

her  lord 

oluntarj 

vant — I 

re  were 
ven  our 
referred 
:,  to  the 

which 
over  its 

warm 


tunic  and  petticoat  of  Indian  blanket  with  fur- 
lined  mocassins,  Catharine  and  her  Indian  friend 
felt  little  cold  excepting  to  the  lace  when  they 
went  abroad,  unless  the  wind  was  high,  and  then 
experience  taught  them  to  keep  at  home.  And 
these  cold  gloomy  days  they  employed  in  many 
useful  works.  Indiana  had  succeeded  in  dyeing 
the  quills  of  the  porcupine  that  she  had  captured 
on  Grape  Island  ;  with  these  she  worked  a  pair 
of  beautiful  mocassins  and  an  arrow  case  for 
Hector,  besides  making  a  sheath  for  Louis's 
couteau-da-cliasse,  of  which  the  young  hunter 
was  very  proud,  bestowing '  great  praise  on  the 
workmanship. 

Indiana  appeared  to  be  deeply  engrossed  with 
some  work  that  she  was  engaged  in,  but  pre- 
served a  provoking  degree  of  mystery  about  it, 
to  the  no  small  annoyance  of  Louis,  who,  among 
his  other  traits  of  qjiaracter,  was  remarkably  in- 
quisitive, wanting  to  know  the  why  and  where- 
fore of  every  thing  he  saw. 

Indiana  first  prepared  a  frame  of  some  tough 
wood,  it  might  be  the  inner  bark  of  the  oak  or 
elm  or  hickory  ;  this  was  pointed  at  either  end, 
and  wide  in" the  middle — not  very  much  unlike 
the  form  of  some  broad,  flat  fish;  over  this  she 
wove  an  open  network  of  narrow  thongs  of  deer- 
hide,  wetted  to  make  it  more  pliable,  and  se- 
curely  fastened   to  the  frame;    when   dry,   it 


I 

1 
I 

\ 


i 


-m 

1 


248 


THE   CAXADIAX   CUCSOES. 


rj**-'' 


became  quite  tight,  ami  resembled  a  sort  of 
coarse  baiaboo-woik  such  iis  yoii  see  on  cane- 
bottomed  chairs  and  soflis. 

"And  now,  Indiana,  tell  ns  what  sort  of  fish 
you  are  going  to  eateh  in  your  ingenious  little 
net,"  said  Louis,  who  had  watched  her  pro- 
ceedings  with  great  interest,  l^'lie  girl  shook 
her  head,  and  laughed  till  she  showed  all  her 
white  teeth,  but  quietly  proceeded  to  commence 
a  second  frame  like  the  first. 

Louis  put  it  on  his  head.  No:  it  could  not 
be  meant  to  be  worn  there,  that  was  plain.  11(3 
turned  it  round  and  round.  It  must  be  intended 
for  some  kind  of  bird-trap ;  yes,  that  must  be 
it;  and  he  cast  an  inquiring  glance  at  Indiana. 
She  blushed,  shook  her  head,  and  gave  another 
of  her  silent  laughs. 

"Some  game  like  battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock,"— and  snatching  up  a  ^ght  bass-wood  chip, 
he  began  tossing  the  chip  up  and  catching  it  on 
the  netted  frame.  The  little  squaw  was  highly 
amused,  but  rapidly  went  on  with  her  work. 
Louis  was  now  almost  angry  at  the  perverse 
little  savage  persevering  in  keeping  him  in 
suspense.  She  would  not  tell  him  till  the  other 
was  done ;  then  there  were  to  be  a  pair  of  these 
curious  articles:  and  he  was  forced  at  last  to 
sit  quietly  down  to  watch  the  proceeding  of  the 
yfork.     It  was  night  before  the  two  were  com 


a  sort  of 
e  on  cane- 

sort  of  tish 
nious  littlo 
i  lior  pro. 
girl  shook 
cd  all  her 
corni  nonce 

.  could  not 
^lain.  He 
e  intended 
,t  must  be 
t  Indiana. 
ie  another 

1   shuttle' 

ood  chip, 

[iing  it  on 

is  highly 

er  work. 

perverse 

him  in 
he  other 

of  these 
[t  last  to 
jg  of  the 
ire  com 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


249 


pleted,  and  furnished  with  straps  and  loops. 
When  the  last  stroke  was  put  to  them,  the 
Indian  girl  knelt  down  at  Hector's  feet,  and 
binding  them  on,  pointed  to  them  with  a  joyous 
laugh,  and  said,  "  Snow-shoe — for  walk  on  snow 
—good  !" 

The  boys  had  heard  of  snow-shoes,  but  had 
never  seen  them,  and  now  seemed  to  understand 
little  of  the  beneiit  to  be  derived  from  the  use 
of  them.  The  young  Mohawk  quickly  trans- 
ferred the  snow-shoes  to  her  own  feet,  and  soon 
proved  to  them  that  the  broad  surface  prevented 
those  who  wore  them  from  sinking  into  the  deep 
snow.  After  many  trials  Hector  began  to  ac- 
knowledge the  advantage  of  walking  with  th»* 
snow-shoes,  especially  on  the  frozen  snow  on 
the  ice-covered  lake.  Indiana  was  well  pleased 
with  the  approbation  that  her  manufactures  met 
with,  and  very  soon  manufactured  for  "  Nee- 
chee,"  as  they  all  now  called  Louis,  a  similar 
present.  As  to  Catharine,  she  declared  the 
snow-shoes  made  her  ankles  ache,  and  that  she 
preferred  the  mocassins  that  her  cousin  Louis 
made  for  her. 

During  the  long  bright  days  of  February 
they  made  several  excursions  on  the  lake,  and 
likewise  explored  some  of  the  high  hills  to  the 
eastward.  On  this  ridge  there  were  few  large 
ti*ees ;  but  it  was  thicklv  clothed  with  scrub 


u 

■  '''8 

TIIK   CAXaDFAX   CRUHOKS. 


■^»t 


**Wii,,, 


oiilvH,  slender  poplars,  and  hero  and  there  line 
j)inea  and  pieturescpie  iVee-g rowing  oaks  of 
considerable  size  and  great  age — patriarchs,  they 
.night  be  termed,  among  the  forest  growth.''* 
Over  tliis  romantic  range  of  hill  and  dale,  freo 
as  the  air  they  bi'cathed,  roamed  many  a  galhmt 
herd  of  deer,  uinnolestcd  unless  dni'ing  certain 
seasons  when  the  Indians  came  to  hunt  over 
tliese  hills.  Sur})rised  at  the  dillerent  growth 
of  the  oaks  on  this  side  the  plains,  Hector  could 
not  help  expressint^  his  astonishment  to  Indiana, 
who  lold  him  that  it  was  caused  by  the  custom 
that  her  people  had  had  from  time  immemorial 
of  setting  fire  to  the  bushes  in  the  early  part  of 
spring.  This  practice,  she  said,  promoted  the 
growth  of  the  deer-grass,  made  good  cover  for 
the  deer  themselves,  and  efFectuaUy  prevented 
the  increase  of  the  large  timbers.  This  circum- 
stance gives  a  singular  aspect  to  this  high  ridge 
of  hills  when  contrasted  with  the  more  wooded 
portions  to  the  westward.  P'rom  the  lake  these 
eastern  hills  look  verdant,  and  as  if  covered  with 
tall  green  fern.  In  the  month  of  October  a  rich 
rosy  tint  is  cast  upon  the  leaves  of  the  scrub 
oaks  by  the  autumnal  frosts,  and  they  present  a 
glowing  unvaried  crixison  of  the  most  glorious 


I  • 


*  One  of  tliese  hoary  monnreli!^  of  the  Oak-hilla  still  stands 
at  the  heivd  of  the  lawn  at  OukUuuls,  formerly  the  property  of. 
Mr.  W.  Falkuer.  now  the  rcaideuce  of  the  authoress. 


THE   CANADIAN    CHUSOES. 


251 


tliere  ^ne 
f  oaks  of 
archs,  they 

I  (lalu,  (rco 
ly  a  gallant 
iiig  certain 
hunt  over 
3nt  gruvvtb 
[ictor  could 
to  Indiana, 
the  custom 
nunemorial 
,rly  part  of 
motcd  the 
cover  for 
prevented 
lis  circum- 
high  ridge 
re  wooded 
lake  these 
ered  with 
lober  a  rich 
the  scrub 
present  a 
,t  glorious 

U  still  stanJa 
property  of. 


hue,  only  variegated  in  spots  by  a  dark  feathery 
evergreen,  or  a  ])atch  of  light  waving  po})lar.H 
turned  by  the  same  wizard's  wand  to  goldca 
vellow. 

There  were  many  lovely  spots, — lofty  rounded 
hills,  and  deep  shady  dells,  with  extended  table- 
land and  line  lake  views;  but  on  th-  whole 
our  young  folks  preferred  the  oak  o[)enings  and 
the  beautiful  wooded  glens  of  the  western  side, 
where  they  had  fixed  their  home. 

There  was  one  amusement  that  they  used 
greatly  to  enjoy  during  the  cold  bright  days  and 
moonlight  nights  of  midwinter.  This  was  gli- 
ding down  the  frozen  snow  on  the  steep  side  of 
the  dell  near  the  spring,  seated  on  small  hand- 
sleighs,  which  carried  them  down  with  great 
velocity.  Wrapped  in  their  warm  furs,  with 
caps  fastened  closely  over  their  ears,  what  ca^ed 
they  for  the  cold?  Warm  and  glowing  from 
head  to  foot,  with  cheeks  brightened  by  the 
delightful  exercise,  they  would  remain  for  hours 
enjoying  the  amusement  of  the  snow-slide;  the 
bright  frost  gemming  the  ground  with  myriads 
of  diamonds,  sparkling  in  their  hair,  or  whitening 
it  till  it  rivalled  the  snow  beneath  their  feet. 
Then,  when  tired  out  with  the  exercise,  they 
returned  to  the  shanty,  stirred  up  a  blazing  fire, 
till  the  smoked  rafters  glowed  i  i  the  red  light ; 
spread  their  simple  fare  o-   stewod  rice  sweet 


'tin 


i 

>  II 


I 


1 


252 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUS0E3. 


ffi'Ut 


^' 


U't. 


ened  with  honey,  or  maybe  a  savoury  soup  of 
hare  or  other  game  ;  and  then,  when  warmed 
and  fed,  they  kneeled  together,  side  by  side,  and 
offered  up  a  prayer  of  gratitude  to  their  Maker 
and  besought  his  care  over  them  during  the 
dark  and  silent  hours  of  night. 

Had  these  young  people  been  idle  in  their 
habits  and  desponding  in  their  tempers,  they 
must  have  perished  with  cold  and  hunger,  in- 
stead of  enjoying  many  necessaries  and  even 
some  little  luxuries  in  their  lonely  forest  home. 
Fortunately  they  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
early  practice  of  every  sort  of  usefulness,  to 
endure  every  privation  with  cheerful  fortitude ; 
not,  indeed,  quietly  to  sit  down  and  wait  for 
better  times,  but  vigorously  to  create  those 
better  times,  by  every  possible  exertion  that 
could  be  brought  into  action  to  assist  and  ame- 
liorate their  condition. 

To  be  up  and  doing,  is  the  maxim  of  a 
Canadian  ;  and  it  is  this  that  nerves  his  arm  tc 
do  and  bear.  The  Camidian  settler,  following 
in  the  steps  of  the  old  Americans,  learns  to 
supply  aU  his  wants  \Dy  the  exercise  of  his  own 
energy.  He  brings  up  his  Tan.ily  to  rely  upon 
their  own  resources,  instead  of  depending  upon 
his  neighbours. 

The  children  ot  the  modern  emiofrant,  thousfh 
enjoying  a  higher  degree  of  civilization   and 


THE  CANADI 


aV 


CRUSOES. 


253 


ry  soup  of 
m  warmed 
y  side,  and 
eir  Maker 
luring  the 

le  in  their 
ipers,  they 
lunger,  iri- 

and  even 
)rest  home. 

up  in  the 
fubiess,  to 
.  fortitude ; 
d  wait  for 
eate  those 
tion  that 
and  ame- 

.xim  of  a 
lis  arm  tc 
following 

learns  to 
•f  his  own 
rely  upon 
ling  upon 

it,  though 
ition   and 


iitelliger.ce,  arising  from  a  liberal  education, 
might  not  have  fared  so  well  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances as  did  our  Canadian  Crasoes,  be- 
cause, unused  to  battle  with  the  hardships  inci- 
dental to  a  life  of  such  privation  as  they  had 
known,  they  could  not  liave  brought  so  much 
experience,  or  courage,  or  ingenuity  to  their  aid. 
It  requires  courage  to  yield  to  circumstances,  as 
well  as  to  overcome  them. 

Many  little  useful  additions  to  the  interior  of 
their  dwelling  were  made  by  Hector  and  Louis 
during  the  long  winter.  They  made  a  smoother 
and  better  table  than  the  first  rough  one  that 
th  y  put  together.  They  also  made  a  rough 
partition  of  split  cedars,  to  form  a  distinct  and 
separate  sleeping-room  for  the  two  girls  ;  but  as 
this  division  greatly  circumscribed  their  sitting 
and  cooking  apartment,  they  resolved,  as  soon 
as  the  spring  came,  to  cut  and  draw  in  logs  for 
putting  up  a  better  and  larger  room  to  be  used 
as  a  summer  parlour.  Indiana  and  Louis  made 
a  complete  set  of  wooden  trenchers  out  of  but- 
ter-nut, a  fine  hard  wood  of  excellent  grain,  and 
less  liable  to  warp  or  crack  than  many  others. 

Louis's  skill  as  a  carpenter  was  much  greater 
than  that  of  his  cousin.  He  not  only  possessed 
more  judgment  and  was  more  handy,  but  he  had 
a  certain   taste   and  neatness  in  finishing  his 

work,  however  rough  his  materials  and  rude  his 

22 


*i 


•  *n 


■"■Sn 


!S 


25* 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


|ii  91 


»*^*1«^^ 

?'■■■'  ■< 


•«« 


».. 


tools.    He  inherited  some  of  that  skill  in  mechan- 
ism for  which   the  French  have  always  been 
remarked.     With  his  knife  and  a  nail  he  would 
carve  a  plum-stone  into  a  miniature  basket,  with 
handle   across  it,   all  delicately  wrought  with 
flowers   and   checker- Vv^ork.      The    shell    of   a 
butter-nut  would  be  transformed  into  a  boat^ 
with  thwarts,  and  seats,  and  rudder ;  with  sails 
of  bass-wood  or  birch-bark.     Combs  he  could 
cut  out  of  wood  or  bone,  so  that  Catharine  could 
dress  her  hair,  or  confine  it  in  braids  or  bands 
At  will.     This  was  a  source  of  great  comfort  to 
her;  and  Louis  was  alwaj^s  pleased  wheu  he 
could   in   any  way  contribute   to  his  cousin's 
happiness.     These   little   arts   Louis  had  been 
taught  by  his  father.    Indeed,  the  entire  distance 
that  their  little  settlement  was  from  any  town 
or  village  had  necessarily  forced  their  families 
to  depend  on  their  own  ingenuity  and  invention 
to  supply  many  of  their  wants.     Once  or  twice 
a-year  they  saw  a  trading  fur-merchant,  as  I 
before  observed ;  and  those  were  glorious  days 
for  Hector  and  Louis,  who  were  always  on  thy 
alert  to  render  the  strangers  any  service  in  thei? 
power,  as  by  that  means  they  sometimes  receiveci 
little  gifts  from  them,  and  gleaned  up  valuable 
information   as   to  their  craft  as  hunters  and 
trappers.     And  then  there  were  wonderful  tales 
of  marvellous  feats  and  hairbreadth  escapes  to 


I 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


255 


in  mechan- 

ways  been 

1  he  would 

asket,  with 

'Ught  with 

hell   of   a 

ito  a  boat, 

with  sails 

3  he  could 

irine  could 

s  or  bands 

comfort  to 

wheu  he 

is  cousin's 

had  been 

distance 

any  town 

families 

nvention 

or  twice 

lant,  as  I 

ous  days 

ys  on  thv 

e  in  theii* 

receive(i 

valuable 

iters  and 

rful  tales 

icapes  to 


listen  to,  as  they  sat  with  eager  looks  and  open 

i"  ears  round  the  blazing  log-fire  in  the  old  log- 
house.  Now  they  would  in  their  turns  have 
tales  to  tell  of  strange  adventures,  and  all  that 
had  befallen  them  since  the  first  day  of  their 
wanderings  on  the  Rice  Lake  Plains. 

The  long  winter  passed  away  unmarked  by  any 
very  stirring  event.  The  Indians  had  revisited 
the  hunting-grounds ;  but  they  confined  them- 
selves chiefly  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  plains, 
the  lake,  and  the  islands,  and  did  not  come  near 
their  little  dwelling  to  molest  them.  The  latter 
end  of  the  month  of  March  presented  fine  sugar- 
making  weather ;  and  as  they  had  the  use  of  the 
big  iron  pot,  they  resolved  to  make  maple  sugar 
And  some  molasses.  Long  Island  was  decided 
upon  as  the  most  eligible  place :  it  had  the  ad- 
vantage over  Maple  Island  of  having  a  shanty 
ready  built  for  a  shelter  during  the  time  they 
might  see  fit  to  remain,  and  a  good  boiling- 
place,  which  would  be  a  comfort  to  the  girls, 
us  they  need  not  be  exposed  to  the  weather 
during  the  process  of  sugaring.  The  two  boys 
soon  cut  down  some  small  pines  and  bass-woods, 
which  they  hewed  out  into  sugar-troughs ;  In- 
diana manufactured  som^e  rough  pails  of  birch- 
bark  ;  and  the  lirst  favourable  day  for  the  work 
they  loaded  up  a  aand-sleigh  with  their  vessels, 
♦!*-^.  marched  forth  over  the* ice  to  the  island  and, 


m 

•J 


\    , 


"I 

m 

! 


256 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


tapped  the  trees  they  thought  could  yield  sap 
for  then-  purpose.  And  many  pleasant  daya 
they  passed  during  the  sugar-making  season. 
They  did  not  leave  the  sugar-bush  for  good  till 
the  commencement  of  April,  when  the  sun  and 
wind  beginning  to  unlock  the  springs  that  fed 
the  lake,  and  to  act  upon  its  surface,  taught  them 
that  it  would  not  long  be  prudent  to  remain  on 
the  island.  The  loud  booming  =iounds  that  were 
now  frequently  ueardof  the  peni-ap  air  beneath 
striving  to  break  forth  from  its  icy  prison,  were 
warnings  not  to  be  neglected.  Openings  began 
to  appear,  especially  at  the  entrance  of  the  river, 
and  between  the  islands,  and  opposite  to  some 
of  the  larger  creeks ;  blue  streams  that  attracted 
the  water-fowl,  ducks,  and  wild  geese,  that  came, 
guided  by  that  instinct  that  never  errs,  from 
their  abiding-places  in  the  far-off  lands;  and 
Indiana  knew  the  signs  of  the  wild  birds  coming 
and  going  with  a  certainty  that  seemed  almost 
marvellous  to  her  simple-minded  companions. 

How  deliirhtful  were  the  first  indications  of 
the  coming  spring !  How  joyously  our  yo' -ng 
Crusoes  heard  the  first  tapping  of  the  red- 
lieaded  woodpecker,  the  low,  fivrvj,^  Tarbling 
note  of  the  early  song-sparrow,  and  twittering 
chirp  of  the  snow-bird,  or  that  neat  quakerly- 
lookiiig  bird,  that  comes  to  cheer  us  with  the  news 
of  sunny  days  and  green  buds,  the  low,  tender, 


THE   CAXALIAN    CRUSOES. 


257 


yield  sap 

sant  dav3 

ig  season. 

r  good  till 

e  sun  and 

^s  that  fed 

ught  them 

remain  on 

!  that  were 

ir  beneath 

ison,  were 

ngs  began 

'  the  river, 

te  to  some 

t  attracted 

hat  came, 

jrrs,  from 

nds ;   and 

s  coming 

id  almost 

)anions. 

ations  of 

ir  yo'-^ng 

the   red- 

Tarblinar 

ivittering 

[uakerlj- 

Ithe  newa 

I,  tender, 


whispering  note  of  the  chickadee,  flitting  among 
the  pines  or  in  the  thick  branches  of  the  shore- 
side  trees !  The  chattering  note  of  the  little 
striped  chitmunk,  as  it  pursued  its  fellows  over 
the  fallen  trees,  and  the  hollow  sound  uf  ..he 
male  partridge  heavily  striking  his  wings  against 
his  sides  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  female  birds 
— were  among  the  early  spring  melodies,  for 
such  they  seemed  to  our  forest  dwellers,  and  for 
such  they  listened  with  eager  ears,  for  they  told 
them — 

"  That  winter,  cold  winter,  was  past, 
And  that  spring,  lovely  spring,  was  approaching  at  last." 

They  watched  for  the  first  song  of  the  robin,* 
and  the  full  melody  of  the  red  thrush  ;f  the 
rushing  sound  of  the  passenger-pigeon,  as  flocks 
of  these  birds  darted  above  their  heads,  some- 
times pausing  to  rest  on  the  dry  limb  of  some 
withered  oak,  or  darting  down  to  feed  upon  the 
scarlet  berries  of  the  spicy  winter-green,  the 
acorns  that  still  lay  upon  the  now  uncovered 
ground,  or  the  berries  of  hawthorn  and  dogwood 
that  still  hung  on  the  bare  bushes.  The  pines 
were  now  putting  on  their  rich,  mossy,  green 
spring  dresses ;  the  skies  were  deep  blue ;  nature, 
weary  of  her  long  state  of  inaction,  seemed 
vraking  into  life  and  light. 


*  Tnrdus  migratorins^  or  An  erican 
+  Turd'is  rnelnin.-<.  or  wood-thrush. 


robin. 


tii( 


I  Hit 


Mi 


■« 

1 

■« 


22^ 


258 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


•^^•^^il'-si* 


f^\-, 


t.     ■ 


On  the  plains  the  snow  soon  disappears,  for 
the  sun  and  air  has  access  to  the  earth  muca 
easier  than  in  the  close,  dense  forest ;  and  Hec- 
tor and  Louis  were  soon  able  to  move  about 
with  axe  in  hand,  to  cut  the  logs  for  the  addi- 
tion to  the  house  which  they  proposed  making. 
They  also  set  to  work,  as  soon  as  the  frost  was 
out  of  the  ground,  to  prepare  their  little  field 
for  the  Indian  corn.  This  kept  them  quite  busy 
Catharine  attended  to  the  house,  and  Indiana 
went  out  fishing  and  hunting,  bringing  in  plenty 
of  small  game  and  fish  every  day.  After  they 
had  piled  and  burned  up  the  loose  boughs  and 
trunks  that  encumbered  the  space  which  they 
had  marked  out,  they  proceeded  to  enclose  it 
with  a  brush  fence,  which  was  done  by  felling 
the  trees  that  stood  in  the  line  of  the  field,  and 
letting  them  fall  so  as  to  form  the  bottom  log  of 
tuo  fence,  which  they  then  made  of  sufiicient 
iieight  by  piling  up  arms  of  trees  and  brush- 
wood. Perhaps  in  this  matter  they  were  too 
particular,  as  there  was  no  fear  of  "breachy 
cattle,"  or  any  cattle,  intruding  on  the  crop  ;  but 
Hector  maintained  that  deer  and  bears  were  as 
much  to  be  guarded  against  as  oxen  and  cows. 

The  little  enclosure  was  made  secure  from 
any  such  depredators,  and  was  as  clean  as 
hands  could  make  it,  and  the  two  cousins  were 
.sitting  on   a  log,  contentedly  surveying  their 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


259 


pears,  for 
rth  muca 
and  Hec- 
ive  about 
the  addi- 
making, 
frost  was 
ittle  field 
lite  busy 
I  Indiana 
in  plenty 
^fter  they 
)ughs  and 
hi  eh  they 
enclose  it 
jy  felling 
ield,  and 
)m  log  of 
sufficient 
d  brush- 
■were  too 
'  breachy 
rop ;  but 
were  as 
d  cows, 
re  from 
;ikan   as 
lins  were 
g  their 


work,  and  talking  of  the  time  when  the  f  rain 
was  to  be  put  in.  It  was  about  the  beginning 
of  the  second  week  in  ATay,  as  near  as  they 
could  guess  from  the  bursting  of  the  forest  buds 
and  the  blooming  of  such  of  the  flowers  as  they 
were  acquainted  with.  Hector's  eyes  had  fol- 
lowed the  fliixlit  of  a  larii;e  ca'jle  that  now, 
turning  from  the  lake,  soared  away  majestically 
towards  the  east  or  Oak-hills.  But  soon  his 
eye  was  attracted  to  another  object.  The  loftiest 
part  of  the  ridge  was  enveloped  in  smoke.  At 
first  he  thought  it  must  be  some  mist-wj[\iath 
hovering  over  its  brow ;  but  soon  the  dense 
rolling  clouds  rapidly  spread  on  each  side,  and 
he  felt  certain  that  it  was  from  fire,  and  nothing 
but  fire,*  that  those  dark  volumes  arose. 

"  Louis,  look  yonder  !  the  hills  to  the  eas"  are 
on  fire." 

*'  On  fire,  Hector  ?  you  are  dreaming  1" 

"  Nay,  but  look  there  !" 

The  hills  were  now  shrouded  in  one  dense, 
Tolling  cloud ;  it  moved  on  with  fearful  rapidity 
dcwn  the  shrubby  side  of  the  hill,  supplied  by 
the  dry,  withered  foliage  and  deer-grass,  which 
Tvas  like  stubble  to  the  flames. 

"  It  is  two  miles  off,  or  more,"  said  Louis ; 
*  and  the  creek  will  stop  its  progress  long  befow 

*  /Appendix  I. 


ai 


■4 


260 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOE.S. 


""I'S 


f  ''\ 


'**;, 
%, 


*^'"''**!>'    .i.„ 


^ 


n^^'l'. 


I..      ' 


it  comes  near  us — and  the  swamp  there,  beyond 
Barc-hill." 

"  The  cedars  are  as  dry  as  tinder ;  and  as  to 
the  creek,  it  is  so  narrow,  a  burning  tree  fallitig 
across  would  convey  the  lire  to  this  side:  be- 
Bides,  when  the  wind  rises,  as  it  always  does 
when  the  bush  is  on  fire,  you  know  how  far  the 
burning  leaves  will  fly.  Do  you  remember 
when  the  forest  was  on  fire  last  spring,  how  long 
it  continued  to  burn,  and  how  fiercely  it  raged  1 
It  was  lighted  by  the  ashes  of  your  father's 
pipe,  whv.4i  he  was  out  in  the  new  fallow ;  the 
leaves  were  dry,  and  kindled  ;  and  before  night 
the  woods  were  burning  for  miles." 

"It  was  a  grand  spectacle,  those  pine-hills, 
when  the  fire  got  in  among  them,"  said  Louis. 
"  See,  see  how  fast  the  fires  kindle ;  that  muPu 
be  some  fallen  pine  that  they  have  got  hold  of; 
now,  look  at  the  lighting  up  of  that  hill — is  it 
not  grand  ?" 

"  If  the  wind  would  but  change,  and  blow  m 
the  opposite  direction  I"  said  Hector,  anxiously. 

"The  wind,  mon  ami,  seems  to  have  little 
hifluence;  for  as  long  as  the  fire  finds  fuel  from 
the  dry  bushes  and  grass,  it  drives  on,  even 
against  the  wind." 

As  they  spoke  the  wind  freshened,  and  they 
^ould  plainly  see  a  long  line  of  wicked,  bright 
flames  in  advance  of  the  dense  mass  of  vapour 


m 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


2H1 


wliicli  hung  in  its  rear.  On  it  came,  that  rolling 
sea  of  flame,  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  gather- 
ing strength  as  it  advanced.  The  demon  of 
destruction  spread  its  red  wings  to  the  blast, 
rushing  on  v'ith  fiery  speed ;  and  soon  hill  and 
valley  were  wrapped  in  one  sheet  of  flame. 

*'  It  must  have  been  the  work  of  the  Indians,' 
said  Louis.  "  We  had  better  make  a  retreat  to 
the  island  in  case  of  the  fire  crossing  the  valley. 
We  must  not  neglect  the  canoe ;  if  the  fire 
sweeps  round  by  the  swamp,  it  may  come  upon 
us  unawares,  and  then  the  loss  of  the  canoe 
would  prevent  escape  by  the  lake.  But  here 
are  the  girls;  let  us  consult  them." 

"It  is  the  Indian  burning,"  said  Indiana; 
"  that  is  the  reason  there  are  so  few  bior  trees  on 
that  hill;  they  burn  it  to  make  the  grass  better 
for  the  deer." 

Hector  had  often  pointed  out  to  Louis  the 
appearance  of  fire  having  scorched  the  bark  of 
the  trees,  where  they  were  at  work,  but  it  seemed 
to  have  been  many  years  back ;  and  when  they 
were  digging  for  the  site  of  the  root-house*  below 
the  bank,  which  they  had  just  finished,  they  had 
met  with  charred  wood,  at  the  depth  of  six  feet 
below  the  soil,  which  must  have  lain  there  tiU 
the  earth  had  accumulated  over  it ;  a  period  of 

*  Root-houses  are  built  over  deep  excavations  below  the 
reach  of  the  frost,  or  the  roots  stored  would  be  spoiled. 


IH 


IK 


V 
lit 


1 


J 


202 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUS0K3. 


% 


*') 


:!'f 


many  ye.irs  must  necessarily  have  passed  since 
the  wood  had  been  burned,  as  it  was  so  much 
decomposed  as  to  crumble  beneath  the  wooden 
shovel  which  thc^y  were  digging  with. 

All  day  they  watched  the  progress  of  that  fiery 
sea  whose  waves  were  llame — red,  rolling  flame. 
Onward  it  came,  with  resistless  speed,  overpow- 
ering every  obstacle,  widening  its  sj)here  oF 
action,  till  it  formed  a  perfect  semicircle  about 
them.  As  the  night  drew  on,  the  splendour  of 
the  scene  became  more  apparent,  and  the  path 
of  the  fire  better  defined  ;  but  there  was  no  fear 
of  the  conflagration  spreading  as  it  had  done  in 
the  daytime.  The  wind  had  sunk,  and  the 
copious  dews  of  evening  effectually  put  a  stop  to 
the  progress  of  the  fire.  The  children  could 
now  gaze  in  security  upon  the  magniiicent  spec- 
tacle before  them,  without  the  excitement  pro- 
duced by  its  rapid  spread  during  the  daytime. 
They  lay  down  to  sleep  in  perfect  security  that 
night,  but  with  the  consciousness  that,  as  the 
breeze  sprung  up  in  the  morning,  they  must  be 
on  the  alert  to  secure  their  little  dwelling  and 
its  contents  from  the  devastation  that  threatened 
it.  They  knew  that  they  had  no  power  to  stop 
its  onward  course,  as  they  possessed  no  imple- 
ment better  than  a  rough  wood-shovel,  which 
would  be  found  very  ineffectual  in  opening  a 
trench  or  turning  the  ground  up,  so  as  to  cut  off 


'Hi 


TUE   CANADIAN    Cltl'SOEd. 


203 


^cd  since 
so  much 
)  wooden 

that  fiery 
ng  fhune. 
:)verpovv- 
[)hero  of 
;le  about 
II dour  of 
the  path 
ls  no  fear 
I  done  ill 
and   the 
a  stop  to 
en  could 
ent  spec- 
lent  pro- 
daytime, 
rity  that 
as  the 
ust  be 
mg  and 
eatened 
to  stop 
imple- 
which 
lening  a 
cut  off 


the  communication  vvitli  the  dry  grass,  leaves, 
and  branches,  which  are  the  fuel  for  supplying 
the  fires  on  the  plains.  The  little  clearing  on 
one  side  the  house  they  thought  would  be  its 
safeguard,  but  the  fire  was  advancing  on  three 
sides  of  them. 

"  Let  us  hold  a  council,  as  the  Indians  do,  to 
consider  what  is  to  be  done." 

"I  propose,"  said  Louis,  "retreating,  bag  and 
baggage,  to  the  nearest  point  of  Long  Lsland." 

"  My  French  cousin  has  well  spoken,"  said 
Hector,  mimicking  the  Indian  mode  of  speak- 
ing ;  "  but  listen  to  the  words  of  the  wise.  I 
propose  to  take  all  our  household  stores  that  are 
of  the  most  value  to  the  island,  and  lodge  the 
rest  safely  in  our  new  root-house,  first  removing 
from  its  neighbourhood  all  such  light,  loose  mat- 
ter as  is  likely  to  take  fire ;  the  earthern  roof 
will  save  it  from  destruction  ;  as  to  the  shanty, 
it  must  take  its  chance  to  stand  or  fall." 

"  The  fence  of  the  little  clearing  will  be 
burned,  no  doubt.  Well,  never  mind,  better 
that  than  our  precious  selves  ;  and  the  corn,  for- 
tunately, is  not  yet  sown,"  said  Louis. 

Hector's  advice  met  with  general   applause, 

and  the  girls  soon  set  to  work  to  secure  the 

property  they  meant  to  leave. 

,  It  was  a  fortunate  thing  that  the  root-house 

tSfd  been  finished,  as  it  formed  a  secure  store- 


i^ 


•I 


iM 


,} 


i^  V 


264 


THE    CANADIAN    CKUS0E3. 


house  for  tlieir  goods,  ruul  would  also  be  made 
available  as  a  hiding-plaoo  from  the  Indians,  in 
time  of  need.  The  boys  carefully  scraped  away 
all  the  combustible  matter  from  its  vicinity,  and 
also  from  the  house;  but  the  rapid  increase  of 
the  lire  now  warned  them  to  hurry  down  to  join 
Catharine  and  the  young  Mohawk,  who  hiul 
gone  off  to  the  lake  shore  with  such  things  aa 
they  required  to  take  withthera. 


i^ 


so  be  made 
Indians,  in 
iraped  away 
'icinity,  and 
increase  of 
own  to  join 
c,  who  hail 
b  tbings  ajs 


THE  CANADIAN   CKUSOE3. 


2(35 


CIIAPTEK    XI. 

*♦  I  know  n  luko  where  tlio  cool  wnvet*  break, 
And  softly  fall  on  tlio  silver  sand, 
And  no  stranger  intrudes  on  that  solltudo. 
And  no  voicoa  but  oiira  disturb  the  strand." 

Iitiau  SoNO. 

^  f^IIE  breeze  bad  sprung  up,  and  bad  already 
-*-  brougbt  tbe  fire  down  as  far  as  tbe  creek. 
Tbe  swamp  bad  long  been  on  fire,  and  now  tbe 
flames  were  leaping  among  tbe  decayed  timbers, 
roaring  and  crackling  among  tbe  pines,  and 
rusbing  to  tbe  tops  of  tbe  cedars,  springing  from 
beap  to  beap  of  tbe  fallen  branches,  and  filling 
tbe  air  witb  dense  volumes  of  black  and  suffo- 
cating smoke.  So  quickly  did  tbe  flames  ad- 
vance, tbat  Hector  and  Louis  bad  only  time  to 
pusb  off  tbe  canoe  before  tbe  heights  along  tbe 
shore  were  wrapped  in  smoke  and  fire.  Many 
a  giant  oak  and  noble  pine  fell  crashing  to  tbe 
earth,  sending  up  showers  of  red  sparks  as  its 
burning  trunk  shivered  in  its  fall.  Glad  to 
escape  from  tbe  suffocating  vapour,  tbe  boys 
quickly  paddled  out  to  tbe  island,  enjoying  tbe 
cool,  fresh  air  of  tbe  lake.  Eeposing  on  tbe 
grass  beneath  tbe  trees,-  they  passed  the  day, 
sheltered  from  tho  noonday  sun,  and  watched 
23       • 


':ii 

» 

1 

1 

:   J 
1 

^i:.,» 

I., 


'  i,* 


266 

the 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


of  tlie  fires 


the  sh 


At 


progress 

night  the  girls  slept  securely  under  the  canoe, 
which  they  raised  on  one  side  by  means  of 
forked  sticks  stuck  in  the  ground. 

It  was  a  grand  sight  to  see  the  burning  plains 
at  night  reflected  on  the  water.  A  thousand 
flaming  torches  flickered  upon  its  still  surface, 
to  which  the  glare  of  a  gas-lighted  city  would 
have  been  dim  and  dull  by  contrast. 

Louis  and  Hector  would  speculate  on  the  prob- 
able chances  of  the  shanty  escaping  from  the 
fire,  and  of  the  fence  remaining  untouched.  Of 
the  safety  of  the  root-house  they  entertained  no 
fear,  as  the  grass  was  already  springing  green 
on  the  earthen  roof;  and  below  they  had  taken 
every  precaution  to  secure  its  safety,  by  scraping 
up  the  earth  near  it.* 

Catharine  lamented  for  the  lovely  spring- 
flowers  that  would  be  destroyed  by  the  fire. 

"  We  shall  have  neither  huckleberries  nor 
strawberries  this  summer,"  she  said,  mournfully ; 


*  Many  a  crop  of  grain  and  comfortable  homestead  lias  been 
saved  by  turning  a  furrow  round  the  fiekl ;  and  great  conflagra- 
tions have  been  effectually  stopped  by  men  beating  the  fire  out 
with  spadei^,  and  liocing  up  the  fresh  earth  so  as  to  cut  otf  all 
communication  with  the  dry  roots,  grass,  and  leaves  that  feed 
its  onward  progress.  Water,  even  could  it  be  got,  which  is 
often  impossible,  is  not  near  so  effectual  in  stopping  the  pr-*- 
gross  of  fire  ;  even  women  and  little  children  can  assist  iii  aacli 
emcrgencicB. 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


267 


•re      At 

3  Ciinoe. 


eaus 


of 


ig  plains 

liousand 

surface, 

,y  would 

tlie  prob- 
Tom  the 
Led.  Of 
ained  no 
ig  green 
ad  taken 
scraping 

•  spring- 
fire. 

Ties  nor 
rnfully ; 


d  has  been 
conflngra- 
le  fire  out 
cut  off  ali 
that  feed 
which  is 
g  the  pr-i- 
ist  ill  aacb 


"  and  the  pretty  roses  and  bushes  will  be 
scorched,  and  the  ground  black  and  dreary." 

"  The  lire  passes  so  rapidly  over  that  it  does 
not  destroy  many  of  the  forest  trees,  only  the 
dead  ones  are  destroyed ;  and  that,  you  know, 
leaves  more  space  for  the  living  ones  to  grow 
and  thrive  in,"  said  Hector.  "  I  have  seen,  the 
year  after  a  fire  has  run  in  the  bush,  a  new  and 
fresh  set  of  plants  spring  up,  and  even  some  that 
looked  withered  recover;  the  earth  is  renewed 
and  manured  by  the  ashes ;  and  it  is  not  so 
great  a  misfortune  as  it  at  first  appears." 

"  But  how  bl/^.ck  and  dismal  the  burnt  pine- 
woods  look  for  years  I"  said  Louis.  "  I  do  not 
think  there  is  a  more  melancholv  sio-ht  in  life 
than  one  of  those  burnt  pine- woods.  There  it 
stands,  year  after  year,  the  black,  branchless 
trees  pointing  up  to  the  blue  sky,  as  if  crying 
for  vengeance  against  those  that  kindled  the 
fires." 

"  They  do,  indeed,  look  ugly,"  said  Catharine ; 
"  yet  the  girdled  ones  look  very  nearly  as  ill."* 

At  the  end  of  two  days  the  fii'es  had  ceased  to 
rage,  though  the  dim  smoke- wreaths  to  the  west- 
ward showed  where  the  work  of  destruction  was 
fiiill  going  on.    • 

As  there  was  no  appearance  of  any  Indians 

*  The  girdled  pines  are  killed  by  barking  ttem  round,  to 
kcUitutc  the  clearing. 


1*. 


<tS.'S 


^^ 


!268 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUS0E3. 


P"^!^ 


on  the  lake,  nor  yet  at  the  point  ( /Vnderscin's 
Point,  as  it  is  now  called)  on  the  other  side, 
^hey  concluded  the  fires  had  possibly  originated 
by  accident, — some  casual  hunter  or  trapper 
having  left  his  camp-fire  unextinguished ;  but 
as  they  were  not  very  likely  to  come  across  the 
►^cene  of  the  conflagration,  they  decided  on  re- 
turning back  to  their  old  home  without  delay; 
and  it  was  with  some  feeling  of  anxiety  that 
they  hastened  to  see  what  evil  had  befallen 
their  shanty. 

"The  shanty  is  burned  I"  was  the  simulta- 
neous exclamation  of  both  Louis  and  Hector, 
as  thoy  reached  the  rising  ground  that  should 
hav*5  commanded  a  view  of  its  roof.  "  It  ia 
well  for  us  that  we  secured  our  things  in  the 
root-horse,"  said  Hector. 

"Well,  if  that  is  safe,  who  cares?  we  can 
soon  buik^  up  a  new  house,  larger  and  better 
than  the  o^d  one,"  said  Louis.  "  The  chief  of 
our  fence  U  g")ne,  too,  I  see ;  but  that  we  can 
renew  at  our  leisure ;  no  hurry,  if  we  get  it 
done  a  month  honce,  say  I.  Come,  ma  belle,  do 
not  look  so  sorrov;f  il.  There  is  our  little  squaw 
will  help  us  to  set  up  a  capital  wigwam,  whik 
the  new  house  is  building." 

"  But  the  nice  tablo  that  ["ou  made,  Louis. 
and  the  benches  and  shtlves!" 

"Never  mind,  Cathy,  I'o    i'f\'   h-^vc   better 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


269 


^nderscin's 
other  side, 
originated 
or  trapper 
ished ;  but 
!  across  the 
ded  on  re- 
out  dehny; 
ixiety  tliat 
id  befallen 

he  simulta- 
nd  Hector, 
that  should 
)f.  "  It  ia 
ngs  in  the 

s  ?  we  can 
and  better 
le  chief  of 
lat  we  can 

we  get  it 
na  helle,  do 

ttle  squaw 
vam,  whik 

ade,  liouia. 

''vc   better 


tables,  d*ii  benches,  and  shelves  too.  Nevei- 
fear,  ma  cMre,  the  same  industrious  Louis  will 
make  things  comfortable.  I  am  not  sorry  the 
old  shanty  is  down  ;  we  shall  have  a  famous 
one  put  up,  twice  as  large,  for  the  winter.  After 
the  corn  is  planted  we  shall  have  nothing  else 
to  do  but  to  think  eibout  it." 

The  next  two  or  three  days  were  spent  in 
erecting  a  wigwam,  with  poles  and  birch-bark  ; 
and  as  the  weather  was  warm  and  pleasant, 
they  did  not  feel  the  inconvenience  so  much  as 
ihey  would  have  done  had  it  been  earlier  in  the 
bcason.  The  root-house  formed  an  excellent 
btore-house  and  pantry  ;  and  Indiana  contrived, 
m  putting  up  the  wigwam,  to  leave  certain  loose 
toldfl  between  the  birch-bark  lining  jtnd  outer 
cov^nng,  which  formed  a  series  of  pouches  or 
bags,  m  which  many  articles  could  be  stowed 
away  out  of  sight.'^ 

Whiie  the  girls  were  busy  contriving  the  ar- 
rangeme.ics  of  the  wigwam,  the  two  boys  were 
not  idle.  The  time  was  come  for  planting  the 
corn ;  a  succession  of  heavy  thunder-showers 
had  soaked  and  softened  the  scorched  earth,  and 
rendered  the  labour  of  moving  it  much  easier 
than  they  had  anticipated.     They  had  cut  for 

*  In  this  way  the  winter  wigwams  of  tlie  Indians  are  con- 
ilruoted  so  as  to  give  plenty  of  stowing  room  to  all  their  little 
household  matters,  materials  fot  work,  &c. 
23* 


in. 


ti 


♦i 


1 

•1. 

*■ 
an 

1 


270 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


2^     Hi' f 


«;  i>|i 


1.. .' 


themselves  wooden  trowels,  with  which  they 
j-aised  the  hills  for  the  seed.  The  corn  planted, 
they  next  turned  their  attention  to  cutting 
house-logs ;  those  which  they  had  prepared  had 
been  burned  up ;  so  they  had  their  labour  to 
begin  again. 

The  two  girls  proved  good  helps  at  the  rais- 
ing ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  they  had 
the  comfort  of  seeing  a  more  commodious  dwell- 
ing than  the  former  one  put  up.  The  finishing 
of  this,  with  weeding  the  Indian  corn,  renewing 
the  fence,  and  fishing,  and  trapping,  and  shooting 
partridges  and  ducks  and  pigeons,  fully  occu- 
pied their  time  this  summer.  The  fruit  season 
was  less  abundant  this  year  than  the  previous 
one.  The  fire  had  done  this  mischief,  and  they 
had  to  go  far  a-field  to  collect  fruits  during  the 
summer  months. 

It  so  happened  that  Indiana  had  gone  out 
early  one  morning  with  the  boys,  and  Catharine 
was  alone.  She  had  gone  down  to  the  spring" 
for  water,  and  on  her  return  was  surprised  at 
the  sight  of  a  squaw  and  her  family  of  three 
half-grown  lads,  and  an  innocent  little  brown 
papoose.*  In  their  turn  the  strangers  seemed 
equally  astonished  at  Catharine's  appearance. 


*  An  Indian  biiby ;  but  "  papooso"  is  not  an  Indian  word. 
\t  is  probably  derived  from  the  Indian  imitation  of  th©  word 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


271 


licli  they 
1  planted, 
0  cutting 
Dareci  had 

L 

labour  to 

b  the  rais- 
;  they  had 
ous  dwell- 
3  finishing 
,  renewing 
d  shooting 
ully  occu- 
'uit  season 
3  previous 
and  they 
uring  the 

gone  out 
iCatharine 
;he  spring" 
-prised  at 
of  three 
tie  brown 
's  seemed 
larance. 

Indian  word. 
)f  th©  word 


The  smiling  aspect  and  good-natured  Jaugh  of 
the  female,  however,  soon  reassured  tlie  fright- 
ened girl,  and  she  gladly  gave  her  the  water 
which  she  had  in  her  birch  dish,  on  her  signi- 
fying her  desire  for  drink.  To  this  Catharine 
added  some  berries,  and  dried  venison,  and  a  bit 
of  maple  sugar,  which  was  received  with  grate- 
ful looks  by  the  boys;  she  patted  the  brown' 
baby,  and  was  glad  when  the  mother  released  it 
from  its  wooden  cradle,  and  fed  and  nursed  it. 
The  squaw  seemed  to  notice  the  difference  be- 
tween the  colour  of  her  young  hostess's  fair  skin 
and  her  own  swarthy  hue ;  for  she  often  took 
her  hand,  stripped  up  the  sleeve  of  her  dress, 
and  compared  her  arm  with  her  own,  uttering 
exclamations  of  astonishment  and  curiosity ; 
possibly  Catharine  was  the  first  of  a  fair-skinned 
race  this  poor  savage  had  ever  seen.  After  her 
meal  was  finished,  she  set  the  birchen  dish  on  the 
floor,  and  restrapping  tlie  papoose  in  its  cradle 
prison,  she  slipped  the  bass  wood-bark  rope  over 
her  forehead,  and  silently  signing  to  her  sons  to 
follow  her,  she  departed.  That  evening  a  pair 
of  ducks  were  found  fastened  to  the  wooden 
latch  of  the  door,  a  silent  offerino^  of  gratitude 
for  the  refreshment  that  had  been  afibrded  to 
this  Indian  women  and  her  children. 

Indiana  thought,  from  Catharine's  description, 
that  these  were  Indians  with  whom  she  was  ac- 


111 


•vifl 


'Y 


1 
1 


272 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


quainted;  she  spent  some  days  in  watching  the 
lake  and  the  ravine,  lest  a  larger  and  more  for- 
midable party  should  be  near.  The  squaw,  she 
said,  was  a  widow,  and  went  by  the  name  of 
Mother  Snow-storm,  from  having  been  lost  in 
the  woods,  when  a  little  child,  during  a  heavy 
storm  of  snow,  and  nearly  starved  to  death.  She 
was  a  gentle,  kind  woman,  and,  she  believed, 
would  not  do  any  of  them  hurt.  Her  sons  were 
good  hunters;  and  though  so  young,  helped  to 
support  their  mother,  and  were  very  good  to  her 
and  the  little  one. 

I  must  now  pass  over  a,  considerable  interval 
of  time,  with  merely  a  brief  notice  that  the  crop 
of  corn  was  carefully  harvested,  and  proved 
abundant,  and  a  source  of  great  comfort.  The 
rice  was  gathered  and  stored,  and  plenty  of  game 
and  fish  laid  by,  with  an  additional  store  of 
honey. 

The  Indians,  for  some  reason,  did  not  pay 
their  accustomed  visit  to  the  lake  this  season. 
Indiana  said  they  might  be  engaged  with  war 
among  some  hostile  tribes,  or  had  gone  to  other 
himting-grounds.  The  winter  was  unusully 
mild,  and  it  was  long  before  it  set  in.  Yet  the 
spring  following  was  tardy,  and  later  than  usual. 
It  was  the  latter  end  of  May  before  vegetation 
had  made  any  very  decided  progress. 

The  little  log-house  presented  a  neat  and  co»^ 


jhing  the 
nore  for- 
uaw,  she 
name  of 
n  lost  in 
a  heavy 
ath.  She 
believed, 
sons  were 
helped  to 
lod  to  her 

e  interval 
t  the  crop 
d  proved 
Drt.  The 
of  game 
store  of 

not  pay 
s  season, 
with  war 

to  other 
unusully 

Yet  the 
lan  usual, 
egetatiou 

and  cott^ 


THE   CANADIAX   CKl'SOES. 


275 


Portable  appearance,  both  within  and  without. 
Indiana  had  woven  a  handsome  mat  of  bass 
bark  for  the  floor;  Louis  and  Hector  had  fur- 
nished it  with  very  decent  seats  and  a  table, 
rough,  but  still  very  respectably  consti'ucted, 
considering  their  onl}^  tools  were  a  tomahawk,  a 
knife,  and  wooden  wedges  for  splitting  the  wood 
into  slabs.  These  Louis  afterwards  smoothed 
with  great  care  and  patience.  Their  bedsteads 
were  furnished  with  thick,  soft  mats,  woven  by 
Indiana  and  Catharine,  from  rushes  which  they 
cut  and  dried ;  but  the  little  squaw  herself  pre- 
ferred lying  on  a  mat  or  deer-skin  on  the  floor 
before  the  ^re,  as  she  had  been  accustomed. 

A  new  field  had  been  enclosed,  and  a  fresh 
crop  of  corn  planted,  and  was  now  green  and 
flourishing.  Peace  and  happiness  dwelt  within 
the  log-house; — but  for  the  regrets  that  ever 
attended  the  remembrance  of  all  they  had  left 
and  lost,  no  cloud  would  have  dimmed  the 
serenity  of  those  who  dwelt  beneath  its  humble 
roof 

The  season  of  flowers  had  again  arrived, — the 
earth,  renovated  by  the  fire  of  the  former  year, 
bloomed  with  fresh  beauty, — June,  with  its  fra- 
grant store  of  roses  and  lilies,  was  now  far  ad- 
vanced,— the  anniversary  of  that  time  when  they 
had  left  their  beloved  parents'  roofs,  to  become 
sojourners  in  the  lonely  wilderness,  had  retura- 


'I  nil 


274 


THE   CANADTAN"   CRUSOES. 


% 


'"^-m-i: 


ed.  Much  they  felt  tliey  bad  to  be  grateful 
for.  Many  privations,  it  is  true,  and  much 
anxiety  they  had  felt^  but  they  had  enjoyed 
blessings  above  all  that  they  could  have  ex- 
pected, that  they  might,  like  the  Psalmist  when 
recounting  the  escapes  of  the  people  of  God, 
have  said, — "Oh  that  men  would  therefore  praise 
the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  the  wonders  that 
he  doeth  for  the  children  of  men."  And  now  they 
declared  no  srreater  evil  could  befall  them  than  to 
lose  one  of  their  little  party,  for  even  Indiana 
had  become  as  a  dear  and  beloved  sister ;  her 
gentleness,  her  gratitude  and  faithful  trusting 
love,  seemed  each  day  to  increase.  ISTow,  indeed, 
she  was  bound  to  them  by  a  yet  more  sacred  tie, 
for  she  knelt  to  the  same  God,  and  acknow- 
ledged, with  fervent  love,  the  mercies  of  her 
Redeemer.  She  had  made  great  progress  in 
learning?  their  lanf]fuaQfe,  and  had  also  tauojht  her 
friends  to  speak  and  understand  much  of  her  own 
tongue ;  so  that  they  were  now  no  longer  at  a 
loss  to  converse  with  her  on  any  subject.  Thus 
was  this  Indian  girl  united  to  them  in  bonds  of 
social  and  Christian  love. 

Hector,  Louis,  and  Indiana  had  gone  over  the 
hills  to  follow  the  track  of  a  deer  which  had  paid 
a  visit  to  the  young  corn,  now  sprouting  and 
showing  symptoms  of  shooting  up  to  blossom. 
Catharine  usually  preferred  staying   at  home, 


THE   CANADIAN   CIlUS0Er4. 


275 


taught  her 
3f  her  own 


and  preparing  the  meals  against  tlieir  return. 
She  had  gathered  some  fine  ripe  strawberries, 
whieh,  with  pU^nty  of  stewed  rice,  Indian  meal 
cake,  and  maple  sugar,  was  to  make  their  dinner. 
She  was  weary  and  warm,  for  the  day  had  been 
hot  and  sultry.  Seating  herself  on  the  threshold 
of  the  door,  she  leaned  her  back  against  the  door- 
post, and  closed  her  eyes.  Perhaps  the  poor 
child's  thouo'hts  were  wanderin^^  back  to  her 
far-off,  never-to-be-forgotten  honie,  or  she  might 
be  thinking  of  the  hunters  and  their  game.  Sud- 
denly a  vague,  undefinable  feeling  of  dread  stole 
over  her  mind:  she  heard  no  steps,  she  felt  no 
breath,  she  ^w  no  form  ;  but  there  was  a  strange 
consciousness  that  she  was  not  alone — that  some 
unseen  being  was  near,  some  eye  was  upon  her. 
I  have  heard  of  sleepers  starting  from  sleep  the 
inost  profound  when  the  noiseless  hand  of  the 
assassin  has  been  raised  to  destroy  them,  as  if  the 
power  of  the  human  eye  could  be  felt  through 
the  closed  lid. 

Thus  fared  it  with  Catharine  :  she  felt  as  if 
some  unseen  enemy  was  near  her;  and,  spring- 
ing to  her  feet,  she  cast  a  wilc^  troubled  glance 
around.  No  living  being  met  her  eye ;  and, 
ashamed  of  her  cowardice,  she  resumed  her  seat. 
The  tremulous  cry  of  her  little  grey  squirrel, 
a  pet  which  she  had  tamed  and  taught  to  run 


t 

li! 


)|' 


270 


Tni']    (.'AXADIAX    CHl'SOKS. 


lo  lior  and  nestle  in  her  borioni,  attracted  her 
attention. 

*' What  aileth  tlice,  wee  dearie?"  she  said, 
tenderly,  as  the  timid  little  creature  cre[)t,  trein- 
bliniif,  to  her  breast.  "Thv  mistress  has  seared 
thee  by  her  o\vn  Ibulish  fears.  See  now,  th^M'e  is 
neither  catamount  nor  weasel  here  to  seize 
thee,  silly  one;"  and  as  she  s[)()ke  she  raised  her 
bead,  and  flung  back  the  thick  clusters  of  soft 
fair  hair  that  shaded  her  eyes.  The  deadly 
glare  of  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  lixed  upon  her  met 
her  terrified  gaze,  gleaming  with  sullen  ferocity 
from  the  angle  of  the  door-post,  whence  the  u})})cr 
part  of  the  face  alone  was  visible^  partly  con- 
cealed by  a  mat  of  tangled,  shaggy,  black  hair. 
Paralyzed  with  fear,  the  poor  girl  neither  spoke 
nor  moved ;  she  uttered  no  cry  ;  but  pressing  her 
hands  tightly  across  her  breast,  as  if  to  still  the 
loud  beating  of  her  heart,  she  sat  gazing  upon 
that  fearful  appearance,  while,  with  stealthy 
ptep,  the  savage  advanced  from  his  lurking-place, 
keeping,  as  he  did  so,  his  eyes  riveted  upon 
hers,  with  such  a  gaze  as  the  wily  serpent  is 
said  to  fascinate  his  prey.  His  hapless  victim 
moved  not ;  whither  could  she  flee  to  escape  one 
whose  fleet  foot  could  so  easily  have  overtaken 
her  in  the  race?  where  conceal  herself  from  him 
whose  wary  eye  fixed  upon  her  seemed  to  deprive 
her  of  all  vital  energy  ? 


TlIK    CANADIAN    CUl'.SOKS. 


OV7 


acted  her 

she  said, 
('[)t,  trein- 
Kis  scared 
^v,  tli'M'o  is 
to   seize 
raised  her 
u's  of  soft 
tie  deadly 
•n  her  met 
iw  ferocity 
;  the  upper 
lartly  con- 
)lack  hair, 
her  spoke 
^essingher 
o  still  the 
zing  upon 
stealthy 
:ing-place, 
eted  upon 
serpent  is 
ess  victim 
escape  one 
overtaken 
'  from  him 
to  deprive 


Uttering  that  singular,  expressive  ^'MUui'al 
which  seems  with  the;  Indian  to  answer  the  pup 
p.ose  of  (ivery  nihcir  (}X(^laination,  he  advanced, 
and  taking  th(^  gii'l's  iee-cold  hands  in  his, 
tightly  hound  thcni  with  a  thong  of  di*er*s  hide, 
and  led  her  uni'i^sisliiii'lv  awav.  ]>v  a  eii'cuitous 
path  through  the  ravine  tliey  reacluxl  the  fo(;t 
of  the  mount,  whcn^  lay  a  bircii  canoe,  rocking 
gently  on  the  wat<3rs,  in  whicli  a  niiddlu-aged 
female  and  a  young  girl  were  seated.  ^I'hc 
females  asked  no  questions,  and  expresscnl  no 
word  indicative  of  curiosity  or  sur[)rise,  as  the 
strong  arm  of  the  Indian  lifted  his  captive  into 
the  canoe,  and  made  signs  to  the  elder  squaw 
to  push  from  the  shore.  W^hen  all  had  taken 
their  places,  the  wonian,  catching  up  a  padiAJo 
from  the  bottom  of  the  little  vessel,  stood  up, 
and  with  a  few  rapid  strokes  sent  it  skimming 
over  the  lake. 

The  miserable  captive,  overpowered  with  the 
sense  of  her  calamitous  situation,  bowed  down 
her  head  upon  her  knees,  and  concealing  her 
agitated  face  in  her  garments,  wept  in  silent 
agony.  Visions  of  horror  presented  themselves 
to  her  bewildered  brain — all  that  Indiana  had 
described  of  the  cruelty  of  this  vindictive  race 
came  vividly  before  her  mind.  Poor  child,  what 
miserable  thoughts  were  thine  during  that  brief 
voyage  I 
24 


i 


1 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0 

^1i&  U^ 

u  m 

l£ 

ii  m 

I.I 

■wUi. 

12.0 

1.25  1 

M 

1'-^ 

'^' 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  weST  MAIN  STRfET 

WIBSTER.N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)  S73-4S03 


p 


278 


IHE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


Had  the  Indians  ;ds()  captured  her  friends? 
or  was  she  alone  to  be  the  victim  of  their  vcii- 
geanc(3?  What  could  be  the  feelings  of  thoso 
bolov(^d  ones  on  returning  to  their  home  and 
finding  it  desol;ite!  Was  there  no  hope  of  le- 
](.'as(;?  As  th(\se  ideas  chased  each  other  through 
lier  agitated  mind,  sh(3  raised  her  eyes  all  stream- 
ing with  tears  to  the  faces  of  the  Indian  and  his 
companions  with  so  piteous  a  look,  that  any 
heart  but  the  stoical  one  of  an  Indian  would 
have  softened  at  its  sad  appeal ;  but  no  answering 
glance  of  sympathy  met  hers,  no  eye  gave  back 
its  silent  look  of  pity — not  a  nerve  nor  a  muscKj 
moved  the  cold  .apathetic  features  of  the  Indians, 
and  the  woe-stricken  girl  again  resumed  her 
melancholy  attitude,  burying  her  face  in  her 
heaving  bosom  to  hide  its  bitter  emotions  from 
tiie  heartless  strangers. 

She  was  not  fully  aware  that  it  is  part  of  the 
Indian's  education  to  hide  the  inward  feelings 
of  the  heart,  to  check  all  those  soft  and  tender 
emotions  which  distinguish  the  civilized  man 
from  the  savage. 

It  does  indeed  need  the  softening  influence  of 
tliat  powerful  Spirit,  which  was  shed  abroad 
into  the  world  to  turn  the  hearts  of  the  dis- 
obedient to  the  wisdom  of  the  just,  to  b.^ak 
down  the  strongholds  of  unrighteousness,  and 
to  teach  man  that  he  is  by  nature  the  child  of 


THE   CANADIAN    CKL'SOKS. 


279 


T  friends? 
their  ven- 
s  of  those 
home  and 
ope  ol'  le- 
ntil rough 
iill  St  rear n- 
xn  .'ind  liis 
that  any 
ian  would 
answerinL? 
gave  baek 
r  a  mnsele 
e  Indians, 
unied  her 
ce  in  her 
tions  frora 


wrath  arid  victim  of  sin,  and  that  in  liis  unre 
generated  nature  his  whole  mind  is  at  enmity 
with  God  and  his  fellow-rnen,  and  that  in  his 
flesii  dwelleth  no  gO(jd  thing.  And  the  Indian 
has  aeknowhMlged  that  powei", — lie  has  east  hirf 
idols  of  cruelty  and  revenge,  those  virtues  on 
which  he  prided  himself  in  the  blindness  of  his 
heart,  to  the  moles  and  the  bats;  he  has  bowed 
and  adored  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross; — but  it  was 
not  sc  in  the  days  whereof  I  have  spoken.* 

*  AppeDdiz  K. 


i 


•art  of  the 
d  feelings 
nd  tender 
ized  man 

fluence  of 
;d  abroad 
f  the  dis- 
to  bi^eak 
iness,  and 
J  child  of 


i 

I 


280 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUS0E3. 


CHAPTER    XTT. 


fe 


r"'^*nfc 


**  Must  this  sweet  new-blown  rose  fiiul  such  a  winter 
Beforo  her  sprinjj  be  ptist?" 

Ueal'mont  and  Flictcher. 

'^r^HE  little  bark  touched  the  stony  point  of 
■^  Long  Island.  The  Indian  lifted  his  weep- 
ing prisoner  from  the  canoe,  and  motioned  to 
her  to  move  forward  along  the  narrow  path  that 
led  to  the  camp,  about  twenty  yards  higher  up 
the  bank,  where  there  was  a  little  grassy  spot 
enclosed  with  shrubby  trees — the  squaws  tarried 
at  the  lake  shore  to  bring  up  the  paddles  and 
secure  the  canoe. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
an  enemy,  but  doubly  so  when  that  enemy  is 
a  stranger  to  the  language  in  which  we  would 
plead  for  mercy — whose  God  is  not  our  God, 
nor  his  laws  those  by  which  we  ourselves  are 
governed.  Thus  felt  the  poor  captive  as  she 
stood  alone,  mute  with  terror,  among  the  half- 
naked  dusky  forms  with  which  she  now  found 
herself  surrounded.  She  cast  a  hurried  glance 
round  that  strange  assembly,  if  by  chance  her 
eye  might  rest  upon  some  dear  familiar  face,  but 
she  saw  not  the  kind  but  grave  face  of  Hector, 


THE    CAXADTAX    CRL'SOKS. 


281 


nor  met  the  briirlit  spnrklini;  eye  of  lie  r  cousin 
Lonis,  nor  the  soft,  subdued,  pensive  r(\atures  of 
the  Indian  (.drl,  her  adopted  sister — slie  stood 
alone  among  those  wild,  iiloomy-l(>okiu<jf  \nou  ; 
Fome  turned  away  tlieir  ey(\s  as  if  tlu^v  would 
not  meet  her  woe-striflcen  eountennnee,  lest  thev 
should  be  moved  to  ])ity  her  sad  condition  ;  n(.) 
wonder  that,  overcome  by  the  sense  of  Ikt  uttc^r 
friendliness,  she  bid  her  fnce  with  her  f(^ttored 
hands  and  wept  in  despnir.  "But  the  Indian's 
sympathy  is  not  moved  by  tears  and  si.Ljhs ; 
calmness,  coura.i^e,  defiance  of  danger,  and  con- 
tempt of  death  are  what  he  venerates  and  ad- 
mires even  in  an  enemv. 

The  Indians  beheld  her  irrief  unmoved.  At 
length  the  old  man,  who  seemed  to  be  a  chief 
among  the  rest,  motioned  to  one  of  the  women 
who  leaned  a2:ainst  the  side  of  the  wic^wam,  to 
come  forward  and  lead  away  the  stranger. 
Catharine,  whose  senses  were  beginning  to  be 
more  collected,  heard  the  old  man  give  orders 
that  she  was  to  be  fed  and  cared  for.  Gladlv 
did  she  escape  from  the  presence  of  those  pitiless 
men,  from  whose  gaze  she  shrunk  with  maiden- 
ly modesty.  And  now  when  alone  with  the 
woman,  she  hesitated  not  to  make  use  of  that 
natural  language  which  requires  not  the  aid  of 
speech  to  make  itself  understood  ;  clasping  her 
hands  imploringly,  she  knelt  at  the  feet  of  thd 
24* 


'Hi 
$ 

111 


I 


282 


TllK   CANADIAN   CHL'SoKS. 


Indian  woiuiiii,  her  conductress — kissfd  her  daik 
bunds  and  balhecl  ihcni  with  her  iiisl  llowin^ 
tears,  whiK'  she  j)(.)iiited  passionately  to  the  shore 
wdiere  hiy  the  happy  home  I'roni  which  she  had 
been  so  suddenly  toi'n. 

The  s(piaw,  though  she  evidently  conij)rc 
hended  the  meaning  iA'  her  imploring  gestures 
Bhook  her  head,  and  in  plaintive  earnest  ton* 
replied  in  her  own  language,  that  she  must  go 
with  the  canoes  to  tlie  other  shore, — and  she 
pointed  to  the  north  as  she  s^joke.  She  then 
motioned  to  the  young  girl — the  same  that  had 
been  Catharine's  companion  in  the  canoe — to 
bring  a  huntingdvuife,  which  was  thrust  into 
one  of  the  folds  of  the  birch-bark  of  the  wigwam. 
Catharine  beheld  the  deadly  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  the  Indian  woman  with  a  pang  of 
agony  as  great  as  if  its  sharp  edge  was  already 
at  her  throat.  So  young — so  young,  to  die  by 
a  cruel,  bloody  death  1  what  had  been  her  crime? 
■ — how  should  she  find  words  to  soften  the  heart 
of  her  murderess?  The  power  of  utterance  seemed 
denied — she  cast  herself  on  her  knees  and  held 
up  her  hands  in  silent  prayer  ;  not  to  the  dreaded 
Indian  woman,  but  to  Him  who  heareth  the 
prayer  of  the  poor  destitute — who  alone  can 
order  the  unruly  wills  and* aflections  of  men. 

The  squaw  stretched    forth  one  dark   hand 
and  grasped  the  arm  of  the  terror-struck  girl, 


THE   CANADIAN    CUU6UKS. 


263 


riicst  tuin 


ivliilc  the  otlicr  held  the  weapon  of  destruction; 
with  ;i  qiiiek  inoveinent  she  severed  the  thonga 
that  bound  the  lettered  wi'ists  of  the  pleiuUiig 
ea[>tive,  and  with  a  snnle  that  seemed  to  light, 
up  her  whole  face  she  raist.'d  her  from  her  pros- 
ti'ate  position,  laid  her  hand  uj)on  her  young 
head,  and  with  an  expivssion  of  g(K)d-humoured 
surprise  lifteil  the  flowing  tresses  of  her  sunny 
liair  and  spread  them  over  the  back  of  her  own 
swarthv  hain] ;  then,  as  if  anmstid  bv  the  striking 
contiast,  she  shook  down  her  own  jett\'-black 
hair  and  twined  a  tress  of  it  with  one  of  the 
fair-haired   girl's — then  laughed  till   her   teeth 
ghone  like  pearls  within  her  red  lips.      Many 
were  the  exclamations  of  childish  wonder  that 
broke  from  the  other  females,  as  they  compared 
the  snowy  arm  of  the  stranger  with  their  owu 
dusky  skins  ;  it  was  plain  that  they  had  no  inten- 
tion of  harming  her,  and  by  degrees  distrust  and 
dread  of  her  singular  companions  began  in  some 
measure  to  subside. 

The  squaw  motioned  her  to  take  a  seat  on 
a  mat  beside  her,  and  gave  her  a  handful  of 
parched  rice  and  some  deer's  flesh  to  eat ;  but 
Catharine's  heart  was  too  heavy  ;  she  was  suf- 
fering from  thirst,  and  on  pronouncing  the 
Indian  word  for  water,  the  young  girl  snatched 
up  a  piece  of  birch-bark  from  the  floor  of  the 
tent,  and  gathering  the  corners  together,  ran  to 


ti. 


II 


I 

m 


284 


TIIK    ^^AN'ADIAN'   CKl'SOKS. 


r'^->i 


the  lake,  and  D'^n  returned  with  water  in  this 
most  j)i'iniitive  drinking  vessel,  wliieli  she  held 
to  the  lips  of  h«;r  guest,  and  she  seemed  amused 
by  the  long  deep  draught  with  whieh  Catharine 
slaked  her  thirst ;  and  something  like  a  gleam  of 
lioj)e  eanie  over  her  mind  as  she  marked  tlie 
look  of  kindly  feeling  with  whieh  she  eaught  the 
young  Indian  girl  regarding  her,  and  she  stnn'o 
to  overcome  the  choking  sensation  that  would 
from  time  to  time  rise  to  her  ihi'oat,  as  she 
fluctuated  between  hope  and  fear.  The  position 
of  the  Indian  camp  was  so  placed  that  it  was 
quite  hidden  from  the  shore,  and  neither  could 
Catharine  see  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  nor  the 
steep  side  of  the  mount  that  her  brothers  were 
accustomed  to  ascend  and  descend  in  their  visits 
to  the  lake  shore,  nor  had  she  any  means  of 
makiniiC  a  signal  to  them  even  if  she  had  seen 
them  on  the  beach. 

The  long,  anxious,  watchful  night  passed,  and 
soon  after  sunrise,  while  the  morning  mists  still 
hung  over  the  lake,  the  canoes  of  the  Indians 
were  launched,  and  long  before  noon  they  were 
in  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Catharine's  heart 
sunk  within  her  as  the  fost  receding  shores  of  the 
lake  showed  each  minute  fainter  in  the  distance. 
At  midday  they  halted  at  a  fine  bend  in  the 
river,  wdiere  a  small  open  place  and  a  creek 
flowing  d  )wn  through  the  woods  afforded  them 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CHISOKS. 


285 


iter  in  tills 

;li  she  held 

umI  amused 

1  Catliuriiie 

}i  gleam  of 

narked  tlu3 

caugiit  the 

I  she  strove 

that  would 

jat,   as  she 

he  position 

that  it  was 

ither  coukl 

ne,  nor  the 

t)thers  were 

their  visits 

means  of 

bad  seen 

massed,  and 
mists  still 
le  Indians 
they  were 
ne's  heart 
ores  of the 
e  distance, 
nd  in  the 
I  a  creek 
rded  them 


cool  water;  an<l  hcic  tli('\-  found  se'veral  tents 
[)nt  U[)  and  a  lariicr  |';irly  awaiting  their  return. 
Tlierivei"  was  here  a  line,  iji'oad,  deej),  and  tran- 
quil sti'eam  ;  tii-cs  of  many  kinds  (ringed  the 
edge;  btiyond  was  the  unbroken  forest,  whose 
de[)ths  bad  never  bt-en  pierced  bv  the  step  of 
man — so  thick  andluxuriant  was  th(3  vegetation, 
that  even  the  Indian  could  hai'dly  have  pene* 
trated  thi'ough  its  dark  swampy  glades  ;  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  that  im[)enetrable  inter- 
minable wall  of  verdure  stretched  away  into 
the  far-olf  distance. 

On  that  spot  where  our  Indian  camp  then 
stood  are  now  pleasan,  open  meadows,  with  an 
avenue  of  line  ])ines  and  balsams ;  showing  on 
the  eminence  above  a  large  substantial  dwelling- 
house  surrounded  by  a  luxuriant  orchard  and 
garden,  the  property  (jf  a  naval  oflicer,*  who 
with  the  courage  and  perseverance  that  mark 
brave  men  of  his  class,  first  ventured  to  brjak 
the  bush  and  locate  himself  and  his  infant  familv 
in  the  lonely  wilderness,  then  far  from  any 
beaten  road  or  the  haunts  of  his  fellow-men. 

But  at  the  period  of  which  I  write,  the  axe 
of  the  adventurous  settler  had  not  levelled  one 
trunk  of  that  vast  forest,  neither  had  the  lire 

*  l^ifut.  IJubii'.iiu,  vvlioHC  iiituroslinj;  account  of  his  earl^ 
settlcnuiit  in;iy  Ix;  rctul  in  ti  letter  iiisi-rled  in  CV.ptain  Huail 
liair.s  Lotlors  iVoin  Caniuui. 


3; 


I    t 


s 


28n 


THE   CAXADTAX   CUrsoKS. 


1"^^ 


« 


V 


Bcatlunl  it;  no  voices  of  Imppy  joyous  cliiUlron 
liad  riiii;^  through  thosi^  shades,  nor  soiuid  of 
rural  hd)our  nor  bleating  (lock  awakened  its 
echoes. 

All  tlie  remainder  of  that  sad  day  Catharine) 
Bat  on  the  grass  under  a  shady  tree,  her  eyea 
mournfully  fixed  on  the  slow  flowing  waters, 
and  wondering  at  her  own  hard  fate  in  being 
dius  torn  from  her  home  and  its  dear  inmates. 
Slid  as  she  had  thougiit  her  separation  from  lier 
-'ather  and  mother  and  her  brothers,  when  slui 
^Tst  left  her  home  to  become  a  wanderer  on  the 
Uicc  Lake  Plains,  how  much  m(ji'e  dismal  now 
was  bcr  situation,  snatched  from  the  dear  com- 
panions who  had  upheld  and  cheered  her  on 
in  all  her  sorrows  !  But  now  she  was  alone  with 
none  lo  love  or  cherish  or  console  her,  she  felt 
a  desolation  of  s])irit  that  almost  made  her  fc^r- 
getful  of  that  trust  that  had  hitherto  always 
sustained  her  in  time  of  trouble  or  sickness. 
She  look^Til  round,  and  her  eye  fell  on  the 
strange,  unseemly  forms  of  men  and  women, 
who  cared  not  for  her,  and  to  whom  she  was  an 
object  of  indifterence  or  aversion :  she  we])t 
when  she  thought  of  the  grief  that  her  absence 
would  occasion  to  Hector  and  Louis;  the 
thought  of  their  distress  increased  her  own. 

The  soothing  quiet  of  the  scene,  with  the  low 
lulling  fiour  d  of  the    little    brook    as  its  tiny 


THK    CANADIAN'    CIU'SOF-^S. 


287 


IS  cliiUlron 

sound  of 

likened  its 

Catliiirino 

\  \\vr  evcfl 

ig  wjiters, 

3  in  being 

\r  iniUMtes. 

II  IV()!n  Ikt 

wlien  she 

?rcr  on  tlio 

isnial   now 

dear  corn- 

2(1   her  on 

alone  with 

:5r,  she  felt 

le  her  for- 

to  always 

sickness. 

11   on  the 

1  women, 

le  was  an 

she  wept 

r  absence 

I)ais;    the 

3r  own. 

h  the  low 

its  liny 


wavelets  fell  tinklin''  over  the  massy  roots  and 
stones  that  impeded  its  course;  to  the  river, 
joined  with  fatigue  and  h)ng  exposure  to  the 
sun  and  air,  caused  her  at  length  to  fall  asleep. 
^I'he  last  rosy  light  of  \\\()  setting  sun  was  dye- 
ing the  waters  with  a  glowing  tint  when  she 
awoke;  a  soft  blue  haze  hung  upon  the  trees ; 
the  kingfisher  and  di'agon-tly,  and  a  solitary 
loon,  were  the  only  busy  things  abroad  on  the 
river;  the  first  darteil  up  ami  down  from  an  uj)- 
turncd  root  near  the  water's  ed<'-e,  feedin^^  its 
younglings;  the  dragon-fly  hawking  with  rapid 
whirring  sound  for  insi^cts,  and  the  loon,  just 
visible  from  above  the  surface.'  of  the  still  stream, 
sailed  quietly  on  companionless,  like  her  who 
watched  its  movements. 

The  bustle  of  the  hunters  returning  with  game 
and  fish  to  the  encam})ment  roused  many  a 
slee})y  brown  papoose,  the  fires  were  renewed, 
and  the  evening  meal  was  now  preparing, — 
and  Catharine,  chilled  by  the  falling  dew,  crept 
to  the  enlivening  warmth.  And  here  she  was 
pleased  at  being  recognized  by  one  friendly  face 
— it  was  the  mild  and  benevolent  countenance 
of  the  widow  Snow-storm,  who,  with  her  three 
sons,  came  to  bid  her  share  their  camp  fire  and 
food.  The  kindly  grasp  of  the  hand,  the  beam- 
ing smile  that  was  given  by  this  good  creature, 
albeit  she  was  udv  and  ill-featured,  cheered  the 


\i' 


288 


TIIK   CANADIAN    CIM.SoKS. 


Had  captive's  licai-t.  Slu'  lia<l  ;jiv<Mi  her  a  cup 
of  cold  water  and  wliat  f'txwl  Iht  lod.i^iii;^  allord* 
imI,  and  in  rctiirti  the;  gtjod  Indian  took  her  to 
licr  wi.Li'wani  and  IImI,  and  \vanni'<l,  and  cherished 
lier  with  the  l()vinL''d<in(hiess  of  a  (Jhi'isliaii ; 
and  durin;^^  all  iier  sojoni-n  in  the  Indian  canij) 
bIic  w;is  a  tender  mother  over  her,  drying  her 
tears  and  shovviii;^'  her  those;  little  acts  of  atten- 
tion that  even  the;  nntau'jht  Indians  know  are 
gratefid  to  the  sorrowfid  and  destitute.  Catha- 
rinii  often  forgot  h<'r  own  griefs  to  repay  this 
worthy  creature's  kindness,  by  attending  to  her 
honK;ly  preparations  of  cookwry  or  household 
work.  She  knew  that  a  seltish  indulgence  in 
sorrow  would  do  her  uo  good,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  some  days  she  so  well  disciplined  her 
own  heart  as  to  ciieck  her  tears,  at  least  in  the 
presence  of  the  Indian  women,  and  to  assume 
an  air  of  comparative  cheerfulness.  Once  she 
found  Indian  words  enough  to  ask  the  Indian 
widow  to  convey  her  back  to  the  lake,  but  she 
shook  her  head  and  bade  her  not  think  any 
thing  about  it;  and  added,  that  in  the  fall,  when 
the  ducks  came  to  the  rice-beds,  they  should 
all  return,  and  then  if  she  could  obtain  leave 
from  the  chief,  she  would  restore  her  to  her 
lodge  on  the  plains;  but  signified  to  her  that 
patience  was  her  only  present  remedy,  and  that 
submission  to   the   will   of  the  chief  was  her 


I    ' 


Tin:    CANADIAN    CUl  SoKS. 


289 


wisest  plan.  Cuiiirortod  by  tliis  va<,nie  proniise, 
Cutliaiiiiu  stTDVe  to  bu  reconciled  in  her  stniii^o 
]t)t,  and  still  stran;^^ei'  companions.  Slie  could 
not  help  bein^  surprised  iit  the  want  of  curiosity 
respecting  her  that  was  shown  by  the  Indians 
in  the  wigwam,  when  siie  was  brought  thither; 
they  a|)peured  to  take  little  notice  that  a  stranger 
and  one  so  dissimilar  to  thiunselves  had  bcini 
inti(jdu('ed  into  the  camp,  f<>r  before  lu^r  they 
aske(l  no  <jueslit)ns  about  her,  whatever  th(}y 
might  d(»  when  she  was  absent,  though  they 
surveyed  her  with  silent  attention.  Catharine 
learned,  by  long  fietpiaintance  with  this  people, 
that  an  outward  manifestation  of  surprise"*^  is 
considered  a  want  oi'  etiquette  and  good  breed- 
inij,  or  rather  a  proof  of  weakness  and  childish- 


■o' 


U 


ess.  The  women,  like  other  females,  are  cer- 
taiidy  less  disposed  to  re[)ress  this  feeling  of  iii- 
quisitiveness  than  the  men,  and  one  of  their 
great  sources  of  amusement,  when  Catharine 
was  among  them,  was  examining  the  ditt'erence 
of  texture  and  colour  of  her  skin  and  hair,  and 
holding  long  consultations  over  them.  The 
young  girl  and  her  mother,  those  who  had  pad- 
dled the  canoe  the  day  she  was  carried  away  to 
the  island,  showed  her  much  kindness  in  a  quifet 
way.  The  young  squaw  was  granddaughter  to 
the  old  chief,  and  seemed   to  be  regarded  with 

*  See  Appendix  L. 
25 


290 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


P»NI»' 


considerable  respect  by  the  rest  of  the  women 
she  was  a  gay,  iivcly  creature,  often  lauglii^ig 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  an  inexhaustible  fund  of 
good  humour.  She  was  inclined  to  extend  her 
patronage  to  the  young  stranger,  making  her 
eat  out  of  her  own  bark  dish,  and  sit  beside  her 
on  her  own  mat.  She  wove  a  chain  of  the 
sweet-scented  grass  with  which  the  Indians  de- 
light in  adorning  themselves,  likewise  in  per- 
fuming their  lodges  with  bunches  or  strewings 
upon  the  floor.  She  took  great  pains  in  teach- 
ing her  how  to  acquire  the  proper  attitude  of 
sitting,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Eastern  nations, 
which  position  the  Indian  women  assume  when 
at  rest  in  their  wigwams. 

The  Indian  name  of  this  little  damsel  signi- 
fied the  Snow-bird.  She  was,  like  that  lively 
restless  bird,  always  flitting  to  and  fro  from  tent 
to  tent,  as  garrulous  and  as  cheerful  too  as  that 
merry  little  herald  of  the  spring. 

Once  she  seemed  particularly  attracted  by 
Catharine's  dress,  which  she  examined  with 
critical  minuteness,  evincing  great  surprise  at 
the  cut  fringes  of  dressed  doeskin  with  which 
Indiana  had  ornamented  the  border  of  the  short 
jacket  which  she  had  manuftictured  for  Catharine. 
These  fringes  she  pointed  out  to  the  notice  of 
the  women,  and  even  the  old  chief  was  called 
in  tc  examine  the  dress;  nor  did  the  leggirga 


THE   CANADIAN"   CRUSOES. 


291 


I  women 

laughiMg 
e  fund  of 
)iieud  her 
aking  her 
reside  her 
n  of  th(i 
riclJans  (le- 
ge in  per- 
st  re  wings 
J  in  teach- 
ittitude  of 
n  nations, 
anie  when 

isel  signi- 

hat  lively 

from  tent 

)o  as  that 

-acted  by 
ned  with 
arprise  at 
th  which 
the  short 
atharine. 
notice  of 
as  called 
leggings 


and  mocassins  escape  their  observation.  There 
was  soniethinL;-  mysterious  about  her  garments. 
Catharine  was  at  a  loss  to  imai'ine  what  caused 

O 

those  deep  guttural  exclamations,  somewhat  be- 
tween a  grunt  and  a  groan,  tliat  burst  from  the 
lips  of  the  Indians,  as  they  one  by  one  examined 
them  with  deep  attention.  These  people  had 
recognized  in  these  things  the  peculiar  fashion 
and  handiwork  of  the  young  Mohawk  girl  whom 
they  had  exposed  to  perish  by  hunger  and  thirst 
on  Bare-hill,  and  much  their  interest  was  excited 
to  know  by  what  means  Catharine  had  become 
possessed  of  a  dress  wrought  by  the  hand  of 
one  whom  they  had  numbered  with  the  dead. 
Strange  and  mysterious  did  it  seem  to  them, 
and  warily  did  they  watch  the  unconscious 
object  of  their  wonder. 

The  knowledge  that  she  possessed  of  the  lan- 
guage of  her  friend  Indiana  enabled  Catharine 
to  comprehend  a  grejit  deal  of  what  was  said  ; 
yet  she  prudently  refrained  from  speaking  in  the 
tongue  of  one  to  whose  whole  nation  she  knew 
these  people  to  be  hostile,  but  she  sedulously 
endeavoured  to  learn  their  own  peculiar  dialect, 
and  in  this  she  succeeded  in  an  incredibly  short 
time,  so  that  she  was  soon  able  to  express  her 
own  wants,  and  converse  a  little  with  the  females 
who  were  about  her. 

She  had  noticed  that  amonoj  the  tents  there 


«» 


"« 


■■-1 
■  t 

f 
'1 


292 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


'^h 


4 


%., 


was  one  which  stood  apart  from  the  rest,  an'i 
was  only  visited  by  the  old  chief  and  his  grand- 
daughter, or  by  the  elder  women.  At  first  she 
imagined  it  was  some  sick  person,  or  a  secret 
tent  set  apart  for  the  worship  of  the  Great  Spirit ; 
but  one  day  when  the  chief  of  the  people  had 
gone  up  the  river  hunting,  and  the  children  were 
asleep,  she  perceived  the  curtain  of  skins  drawn 
back,  and  a  female  of  singular  and  striking 
beauty  a})pcared  standing  in  the  o])en  space  in 
front.  She  was  habited  in  a  fine  tunic  of  white 
dressed  doeskin  richly  embroidered  with  coloured 
beads  and  stained  quills,  a  full  petticoat  of  dark 
cloth  bound  with  scarlet  descended  to  her  ankles, 
leggings  fringed  with  deer-skin  knotted  with 
bands  of  coloured  quills,  with  richly  wrought 
mocassins  on  her  feet.  On  her  head  she  wore  a 
coronet  of  scarlet  and  black  feathers ;  her  long 
shining  tresses  of  raven  hair  descended  to  her 
waist,  each  thick  tress  confined  with  a  braided 
band  of  quills  dyed  scarlet  and  blue ;  her  stature 
was  tall  and  well-formed  ;  her  large,  liquid,  dark 
eye  wore  an  expression  so  proud  and  mournful 
that  Catharine  felt  her  own  involuntarily  fill 
with  tears  as  she  gazed  upon  this  singular 
being.  She  would  have  approached  nearer  to 
her,  but  a  spell  seemed  on  her ;  she  shrunk  back 
timid  and  abashed  beneath  that  wild  melancholy 
glance.     It  was  she,  the  Beam  of  the  Morning, 


vV 


TIIK    CAN.\1)I.\X    I'HrSwi:^^ 


21)3 


rest,  an'i 
is  grand- 
:  first  she 
a  secret 
at  Spirit ; 
!ople  bad 
iren  were 
ns  drawn 
striking 
space  in 
I  of  wliite 
1  coloured 
at  of  dark 
ler  ankles, 
(tted  with 
wrought 
;he  wore  a 
her  long 
ud  to  her 
a  braided 
ler  stature 
^uid,  dark 
mournful 
itarily  fill 
singular 
nearer  to 
unk  back 
elancholy 
Morning, 


the  self-made  widow  of  the  young  Mohawk, 
whose  hand  had  wrought  so  fearful  a  vengeance 
on  the  treacherous  destroyer  of  her  brother.  She 
stood  there,  at  the  tent  door,  arrayed  in  her 
bridal  robes,  as  on  the  dav  when  she  received 
her  death-doomed  victim.  And  when  she  recalled 
her  fearful  deed,  shuddcrin.g^  with  horror,  Catha- 
rine drew  back  and  shroui.od  herself  within  the 
tent,  fearing  again  to  fall  under  the  eye  of  that 
terrible  woman.  She  remembered  how  Indiana 
had  told  her  that  since  that  fatal  marriage-feast 
she  had  been  kept  apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
tribe, — she  was  regarded  by  her  people  as  a 
sacred  character,  a  great  }fedicine,  a  female  brave, 
a  being  whom  they  regarded  with  mysterious 
reverence.  She  had  made  this  great  sacrifice 
for  the  good  of  her  nation.  Indiana  said  it  was 
believed  among  her  own  folks  that  she  had  loved 
the  young  Mohawk  passionately,  as  a  tender 
woman  loves  the  husband  of  her  youth  ;  yet  she 
had  hesitated  not  to  sacrifice  him  with  her  own 
hand.  Such  was  the  deed  of  the  Indian  heroine 
— and  such  were  the  virtues  of  the  unregenerated 
Greeks  and  Romans  I 
2b* 


2U 


THE    CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


M 


•  Now  where  the  wave,  witli  loud  unquiet  song, 
DasIiM  o'er  tlic  rocky  channel,  froths  along. 
Or  where  the  silver  waters  sootiied  to  rest, 
The  tree's  tall  shadow  sleeps  upon  its  breast." 

COLEKIDOK. 

^T^HE  Indian  camp  remained  for  nearly  three 
-*-  weeks  on  this  spot,*  and  then  early  one 
morninu;  the  wi^fwams  were  all  taken  down,  and 
the  canoes,  six  in  number,  proceeded  up  the 
river.  There  was  very  little  variety  in  the 
scenery  to  interest  Catharine  ;  the  river  still  kept 
its  slow  flowing  course  between  low  shores, 
thickly  clothed  with  trees,  without  an  opening 
thi'ough  which  the  eye  might  pierce  to  form  an 
idea  of  the  country  beyond ;  not  a  clearing,  not 
a  sight  or  sound  of  civilized  man  was  there  to 
be  seen  or  heard  ;  the  darting  flight  of  the  wild 
birds  as  they  flitted  across  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  the  tapping  of  the  woodpeckers  or  shrill 
cry  of  the  blue  jay,  was  all  that  was  heard,  from 
Bunrise  to  sunset,  on   that  monotonous  voyage. 

*  Now  known  by  the  nnnio  of  Cambelltown,  though  there  is 
but  one  log-house  and  some  pasture  fields ;  it  is  a,  spot  long  used 
as  a  calling  place  for  the  steamer  that  plies  on  the  Otonabee, 
between  Gore's  Landing  on  the  Kice  Lake  and  Peterborough,  to 
take  iu  firewood. 


THE    CANADIAN    CKUSOES. 


296 


•ng. 
east/' 

JLEKIDOE. 

\rly  three 
3arly  one 
lown,  and 
d  up  the 
y   in   the 
still  kept 
v   shorewS, 
opening 
form  an 
iring,  not 
there  to 
the  wild 
Ide  to  the 
or  shrill 
ird,  from 
voyage. 

lugh  there  is 
lot  long  used 
Otonabee, 
[•borough,  to 


After  many  liouis  a  decided  change  was  per- 
ceived in  the  current,  which  ran  at  a  consider- 
able increase  of  swiftness,  so  that  it  required  the 
united  energy  of  both  men  and  women  to  keep 
the  light  vessels  from  driftinir  down  the  river 
again.  They  were  in  the  rapids,*  and  it  was 
hard  work  to  stem  the  tide,  and  keep  the  upward 
coarse  of  the  waters.  At  length  t»he  rapids 
were  passed,  and  the  weary  Indian  voyagers 
rested  for  a  space  on  the  bosom  of  a  small  but 
tranquil  lake.f  The  rising  m.oon  shed  her  sil- 
very light  u|)on  the  calm  waters,  and  heaven's 
stars  shone  down  into  its  quiet  depths,  as  the 
canoes  with  their  dusky  freight  parted  the  glit- 
tering rays  with  their  light  paddles.  As  they 
proceeded  onw^ard  the  banks  rose  on  either  side, 
still  fringed  with  pine,  cedar,  and  oaks.  At  an 
angle  of  the  lake  the  banks  on  either  side  ran 
out  into  two  opposite  peninsulas,  forming  a  nar- 
row passage  or  gorge,  contracting  the  lake  once 
more  into  the  appearance  of  a  broad  river,  miuch 
wider  from  shore  to  *^>liore  than  any  other  part 
they  had  passed  throu/rh  smce  they  had  left  the 
entrance  at  the  B>vy^,  Lake. 

*  Formerly  known  as  Whitla's  K^j-ics,  uow  the  aite  of  thft 
Locks. 

t  The  little  luko  about  a  milo  >^e!ow'  !P/»t«»rVri'"frh  ^n**  ^b(>v» 
Iho  Locks,  formerly  girt  in  by  W'^ode  of  pin«  ftod  beeob  aid 
;naple,  now  entirely  divested  of  trees  and  A>nnii  w  pnn  oi  tti* 
suburbs  of  the  town. 


296 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUS0E3. 


Catharine  becarno  interested  in  the  change  (»f 
Bcenery ;  her  eye  dwelt  vvitli  deliglit  on  the 
forms  of  glorious  s))rea(liiig  oaks  and  lofty  pines, 
green  clilf-like  sliores  and  low,  wooded  islands; 
while  as  they  proceeded  the  sound  of  ra|)id  flow- 
ing waters  met  her  ear,  and  soon  tlie  white  and 
broken  eddies  rushing  alorjg  with  itn})etuous 
course  were  seen  by  the  light  of  the  moon;  and 
while  she  was  wondering  if  the  canoes  were  to 
stem  those  rapids,  at  a  signal  from  the  old  chief, 
the  little  fleet  was  pushed  to  shore  on  a  low  flat 
of  emerald  verdure  nearly  opposite  to  the  last 
island.* 

Here,  under  the  shelter  of  some  beautiful 
spreading  black  oaks,  the  women  prepared  to 
set  up  their  wigwams.  They  had  brought  the 
poles  and  birch-bark  covering  from  the  en- 
campment below,  and  soon  all  was  bustle  and 
business — unloading  the  canoes,  and  raising  the 
tents.  Even  Catharine  lent  a  willing  hand  to 
assist  the  females  in  bringing  up  the  stores,  and 
sundry  baskets  containing  fruits  and  other  small 
wares.  She  then  kindly  attended  to  the  Indian 
children,  certain  dark-skinned  babes,  who,  bound 
upon  their  wooden  cradles,  were  either  set  up 
against  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  or  swung  to 
some  lowly-depending  branch,  there  to  remain 

•  Over  the  Otoniibee,  just  between  tlierapids  niul  the  island, 
ft  noble  and  substuutiul  bridge  has  been  built. 


change  of 
ht  on  the 
lofty  pines, 
m1  islands; 
rapid  flow- 
white  and 
ini|)etuons 
noon  ;  and 
es  were  to 
B  old  chief, 
1  a  low  flat 
to  tlie  last 

I   beautiful 

repared  to 

•ought  the 

ri   the   en- 

3ustle  and 

•aising  the 

g  hand  to 

stores,  and 

)ther  small 

;he  Indian 

ho,  bound 

ler  set  up 

swung  to 

to  remain 

lul  the  island, 


THK   CAN'ADIAX    CHUSOES. 


297 


helpless  and    uncomplaining  spectators  of    the 
Bcene. 

Catharine  thouglit  these  Indian  babes  were 
almost  as  much  to  be  pitied  as  herself,  only  that 
they  were  unconscious  of  their  imprisoned  state, 
having  fiom  birtii  been  used  to  no  better  treat- 
ment, and  moreover  they  were  sure  to  be  re- 
warded by  the  tender  caresses  of  living  mothers 
when  the  season  of  refreshment  and  repose  ar- 
rived;  but  she,  alas!  was  friendless  and  alone, 
an  orphan  girl,  reft  of  father,  mother,  kindn^l, 
and  friends.  One  Father,  one  Friend,  poor 
Catharine,  thou  hadst,  even  He — the  Father  of 
the  fatherless. 

That  night  when  the  women  and  children 
were  sleeping,  Catharine  stole  out  of  the  wig- 
wam, and  climbed  the  precipitous  bank  beneath 
the  shelter  of  which  the  lodges  had  been  erected. 
She  found  herself  upon  a  grassy  plain,  studded 
with  majestic  oaks  and  pines,  so  beautifully 
grouped  that  they  might  have  been  planted  by 
the  hand  of  taste  upon  that  velvet  turf.  It  was 
a  delightful  contrast  to  those  dense  dark  forests 
through  which  for  so  many  miles  the  waters  of 
the  Otonabee  had  flowed  on  monotonously ; 
here  it  was  all  wild  and  free,  dashing  along  like 
a  restive  steed  rejoicing  in  its  liberty,  uncurbed 
and  tameless. 

Yes,  here  it  was  beautiful !     Catharine  gazed 


\  J' 


'I 

t 


I 


298 


THE   CANADIAN    CULSOES. 


^^ 


-.■"4 


%i 


with  joy  upon  the  rushing  river,  and  felt  her 
own  heart  expand  as  she  marked  its  rapid 
course,  as  it  bounded  murmuring  and  fretting 
over  its  rocky  bed.  "  Happy,  glorious  waters  ! 
you  are  not  subject  to  the  power  of  any  living 
creature ;  no  eanoe  can  ascend  those  surging 
waves;  I  woukl  that  I,  too,  like  thee,  were  free 
to  pursue  my  onward  way — how  soon  would  I 
flee  away  and  be  at  rest !"  Such  thoughts  per- 
haps might  have  passed  through  the  mind  of 
the  lonely  captive  girl,  as  she  sat  at  the  foot  of 
one  giant  oa^,  and  looked  abroad  over  those 
moon-lit  waters,  till,  oppressed  by  the  over- 
whelming sense  of  the  utter  loneliness  of  the 
scene,  the  timid  girl  with  faltering  step  hurried 
down  once  more  to  the  wigwams,  silently  crept 
to  the  mat  where  her  bed  was  spread,  and  soon 
forgot  all  her  woes  and  wanderings  in  deep 
tranquil  sleep. 

Catharine  wondered  that  the  Indians,  in 
erecting  their  lodges,  always  seemed  to  prefer 
the  low,  level,  and  often  swampy  grounds  by 
the  lakes  and  rivers  in  preference  to  the  higher 
and  more  healthy  elevations.  So  disregardful 
are  they  of  this  circumstance,  that  they  do  not 
hesitate  to  sleep  where  the  ground  is  saturated 
with  moisture.  They  will  then  lay  a  temporary 
floorin"-  of  cedar  or  anv  other  bark  beneath 
their  feet,  rather  than  remove  the  tent  a  few 


THE    CANADIAN    ClU\SOES. 


299 


i  felt  ber 
its  rapid 
d  fretting 
IS  waters ! 
my  living 
e  suroinof 

o      o 

were  free 
1  would  I 
iglits  per- 

niind  of 
le  foot  of 
ver  tbose 
die  over- 
ss  of  the 
0  hurried 
itly  crept 
and  soon 

in  deep 

iians,  in 
o  prefer 
unds  bj 
e  higher 
egardful 
Y  do  not 
atu rated 
nporarj 
beneath 
a  few 


feet  higher  up,  wlicre  a  drier  soil  may  always 
be  found.  This  either  arises  from  stupidity  or 
indolence,  perhaps  fi-om  both,  but  it  is  no  doubt 
the  cause  of  much  of  the  sickness  that  prevails 
among  them.  With  his  feet  stretched  to  the 
(ire  the  Indian  cares  for  nothing  else  when  re- 
posing in  his  wigwam,  and  it  is  useless  to  urge 
die  improvement  that  might  be  made  in  his 
comfort ;  he  listens  with  a  face  of  apathy,  and 
utters  his  everlasting  guttural,  which  saves  him 
the  trouble  of  a  more  rational  reply. 

"Snow-bird"  informed  Catharine  that  the 
lodges  would  not  again  be  removed  for  some 
time,  but  that  the  men  would  hunt  and  fish, 
while  the  squaws  pursued  their  domestic  labours. 
Catharine  perceived  that  the  chief  of  the  la- 
borious part  of  the  work  fell  to  the  share  of  the 
females,  who  were  very  much  more  industrious 
and  active  than  their  husbands;  these,  when 
not  out  hunting  or  fishing,  were  to  be  seen  re- 
posing in  easy  indolence  under  the  shade  of  the 
trees,  or  before  the  tent  fires,  giving  themselves 
little  concern  about  any  thing  that  was  going  on. 
Tiie  squaws  were  gentle,  humble,  and  submis- 
sive ;  they  bore  without  a  murmur  pain,  labour, 
hunger,  and  fatigue,  and  seemed  to  perform 
every  task  with  patience  and  good  humour. 
Tliev  made  the  canoes,  in  which  the  men 
sometimes  assisted  them,  pitched  the  tents,  con- 


% 


800 


THR   CAN  A  nr  AX   CIU'SOES. 


S3*' 


■t 


vortc'cl  tli(3  skins  of  the  luiimals  which  the  men 
shot  into  clothes,  cooked  the  victuals,  manu- 
factured baskets  of  cverv  kind,  wove  mats,  dvcd 
the  quills  of  the  porcupine,  sewed  tlic  mocassins, 
and  in  short  performed  a  thousand  tasks  which 
it  would  be  dillicult  to  enumerate. 

Of  the  ordinary  household  work,  such  as  is 

■  familiar  to   European   females,   they   of  course 

knew  nothing;  they  had  no  linen  to  wash  or 

iron,  no  floors  to  clean,  no  milking  of  cows,  nor 

churninf'  of  butter. 

Their  carpets  were  fresh  cednr  boughs  spread 
upon  the  ground,  and  only  renewed  when  they 
became  offensively  dirty  from  the  accumulation 
of  fish-bones  and  other  offal,  which  are  care- 
lessly flung  down  during  meals.  Of  furniture 
they  had  none,  their  seat  the  ground,  their  table 
the  same,  their  beds  mats  or  skins  of  animals, — 
Buch  were  the  domestic  arrangements  of  the  In- 
dian camp.* 

In  the  tent  to  which  Catharine  belonged, 
which  was  that  of  the  widow  and  her  sons, 
a  greater  degree  of  order  and  cleanliness  pre- 
vailed than  in  any  other,  for  Catharine's  natural 
love  of  neatness  and  comfort  induced  her  to 
strew  the  floor  with  cedar  or  hemlock  every 

*  Much  improvement  lias  taken  place  of  late  years  in  the 
domestic  economy  of  tlie  Indians,  and  some  of  their  dwellings 
are  doau  uud  ueut  even  for  Europeans. 


THE   CANADIAN    CRL'SOES.                  801 

;h  the  men 

ilay  or  two,  and  to  sweep  roun*!  t  ic  front  (;f  tho 

lis,   manu- 

lodge,  removing  a  I  unscein  y  objects  from  its 

mats,  dyed 

vicinitv.     She  never  failed  to  wash  herself  in 

mocassins, 

the  river,  and  arrange  her  hair  with  the  comb 

iscs  which 

that  Louis  had  made  fl)r  her;  and  took  great 
care  of  the  litt  e  child,  w  lic  i  she  \ept  clean  and 

such  as  is 

well  fed.     S  le  loved  this  little  creature,  for  it 

of  cc)urse 

was  soft  and  gent  e,  meek  and  playful  as*a  little 

0  wash  or 

equirrel,   and    the    Indian    mot  lers   all   looked 

'cows,  nor 

with   kinder  eyes  upon  the  white  maiden,  for 
the  loving  manner  in   which  she  tended  their 

ghs  spread 
when  tlicv 

children.     The  heart  of  woman  is  seldom  cold 
to  those  who  cherish  their  oll'spring,  and  Catha- 

iimulation 

rine   began  to   experience   the   truth,   that  the 

are  care- 

exercise   of  those    human   charities  is  equally 

1 

'  furniture 

beneficial  to  those  who  give  and  those  that  re- 

I 

their  table 

ceive  ;  these  things  fall  upon  the  heart  as  dew 

mimals, — 

upon    a    thirsty    soil,    giving    and    creating    a 

) 

of  the  In- 

blessing.      But    we    will    leave    Catharine   for 
short  season,  among  the  lodges  of  the  Indiana, 

* 

'   1! 
1 

belonf^ed, 

and  return  to  Hector  and  Louis. 

r« 

O           1 

her   sons, 

26 

1 

ness  pre- 

I's  natural 

;d  her  to 

ck  every 

^oars  in  the 

ir  dwellings 

* 

] 

802 


THE   CANADIAN   rilUSOES. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


P>i* 


"W 


**  Cold  and  forsaken,  dostituto  of  friends, 
And  all  good  (.'omforts  clso,  unless  nomo  tioe 
Wlioao  spcecliloss  charity  doth  better  ours, 
With  which  the  bitter  cast-winds  nuido  their  sport 
And  sang  through  hourly,  hath  invited  thee 
To  shelter  half  u  day.     Shall  she  be  thuH, 
And  I  draw  in  soft  slumbers  ?" 

Bkaumont  and  Fletcher. 

XT  was  near  sunset  before  Hectpr  and  hh 
cousin  returned  on  the  evening  of  the  eventfu 
day  that  had  found  Catharine  a  prisoner  or 
Long  Island.  They  had  met  with  good  succes? 
in  hunting,  and  brought  home  a  fine  half-grown 
fawn,  fat  and  in  good  order.  They  were  sur- 
prised at  finding  the  fire  nearly  extinguished, 
and  no  Catharine  awaiting  tlieir  return.  There, 
it  is  true,  was  the  food  that  she  had  prepared 
for  them,  but  she  was  not  to  be  seen  ;  sup- 
posing that  she  had  been  tired  of  waiting  for 
ihem,  and  had  gone  out  to  gather  strawberries, 
they  did  not  at  first  feel  very  anxious,  but  ate 
some  of  the  rice  and  honey,  for  they  were 
hungry  with  long  fasting ;  and  taking  some 
Indian  moal  cake  in  their  hands,  they  went  out 
to  call  her  in,  but  no  trace  of  her  was  visible, 
They  now  became  alarmed,  fearing  that  she  had 


roe 

S 

leir  sport 

ice 


i  Fletcher. 

)r  and   hh 

he  eventfu 

irisoner  or 

)od  succes? 

half-grown 

were  sur* 

inguished, 

There, 

prepared 

een  ;  sup- 

aiting  for 

iwberries, 

s,  but  ate 

tiey   were 

ing  some 

went  out 

IS  visible, 

t  she  had 


THE   CAXAblAX   CUUSOES. 


303 


Bet  ofT  by  herself  to  seek  then),  and  had  missed 
her  way  home  again. 

They  hurried  baek  to  ih(3  Happy  Ynllcy — she 
was  not  there;  to  Pine-tree  P(;int — no  trace  of 
her  there;  to  the  edge  of  the  mount  that  over- 
looked the  lake — no,  she  was  not  to  be  seen ; 
night  found  them  still  unsuccessful  in  their 
search.  Sometimes  they  fancied  that  she  liad 
seated  herself  beneath  some  tree  and  fallen 
asleep;  but  no  one  imagined  the  true  cause, 
having  seen  nothing  of  the  Indians. 

Again  they  retraced  their  steps  baek  to  the 
house;  but  they  found  her  not  there.  They 
continued  their  unavailing  search  till  the  moon 
setting  left  them  in  darkness,  and  they  laid 
down  to  rest,  but  not  to  sleep.  The  first  streak 
of  dawn  saw  them  again  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
calling  in  vain  upon  the  name  of  the  loved  and 
lost  companion  of  their  wanderings.  Desolation 
had  fallen  upon  their  house,  and  the  evil  which 
of  all  others  they  had  most  feared,  had  happened 
to  them. 

Indiana,  whose  vigilance  was  more  untiring, 
for  she  yielded  not  so  easily  to  grief  and 
despair,  now  returned  with  the  intelligence  that 
she  had  discovered  the  Indian  trail,  through 
the  big  ravine  to  the  lake  shore ;  she  had  found 
the  remains  of  a  wreath  of  oak  leaves  which 
had  been   woven  by  Catharine,  and  probably 


304 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CRUSOErt. 


I  u 


been  about  her  hair;  and  she  had  seen  the  mark 
of  feet,  Indian  feet,  on  the  soft  chiy,  at  the  edge 
of  the  hdve,  and  the  farrowing  of  the  shingles 
by  the  pushing  off  of  a  canoe.  It  was  evident 
that  she  had  been  taken  away  from  her  home 
by  these  people.  Poor  Louis  gave  way  to 
transports  of  grief  and  despair;  he  knew  the 
wreath,  it  was  such  as  Catharine  often  made  for 
herself,  and  Mathilde,  and  petite  Louise,  and 
!NLarie;  his  mother  had  taught  her  to  make 
them ;  they  were  linked  together  by  the  stalks, 
and  formed  a  sort  of  leaf  chain.  The  remem- 
brance of  many  of  their  joyous  days  of  child- 
hood made  Louis  weep  sorrowful  tears  for 
happy  days,  never  to  return  again;  he  placed 
the  torn  relic  in  his  breast,  and  sadly  turned 
away  to  hide  his  grief  from  Hector  and  the 
Indian  girl. 

Indiana  now  proposed  searching  the  island 
for  further  traces,  but  advised  wariness  in  so 
doing.  They  saw,  however,  no  smoke  nor 
canoes.  The  Indians  had  departed  while  they 
were  searching  the  ravines  and  flats  round 
Mount  Ararat,  and  the  lake  told  no  tales.  The 
following  day  they  ventured  to  land  on  Long 
Island,  and  on  going  to  the  north  side  saw 
evident  traces  of  a  temporary  encampment 
having  beeri  made.  This  was  all  they  could  do, 
further  search  was  unavailing;    as  they  found 


II  the  mark 
it  the  edire 
le  shinirles 
as  evident 
her  home 
e    way    to 
knew  the 
1  made  for 
ouise,  and 
to    make 
the  stalks, 
le  remem- 
s  of  child- 
tears    for 
he  placed 
lly  turned 
and  the 

he  island 

less  in  so 

noke   nor 

hile  they 

its   round 

les.     The 

on  Long 

side  saw 

jampment 

could  do, 

ey  found 


THE    CAXADIAX    CHUSOES. 


305 


no  trace  of  any  violence  having  been  committed, 
they  still  cherished  hopes  that  no  personal  harm 
had  been  done  to  the  poor  captive.  It  was 
Indiana's  opinion  that  though  a  prisoner  she 
was  unhurt,  as  the  Indians  rarely  killed  women 
and  children,  unless  roused  to  do  so  by  some 
signal  act  on  the  [)art  of  their  enemies,  when 
an  exterminating  spirit  of  revenge  induced  them 
to  kill  and  spare  not;  but  where  no  offence  had 
been  offered,  they  were  not  likely  to  take  the 
life  of  an  helpless,  unoffending  female. 

The  Indian  is  not  cruel  for  the  wanton  love 
of  blood,  but  to  gratify  revenge  for  some  injury 
done  to  himself,  or  to  his  tribe;  but  it  was 
difficult  to  still  the  terrible  apprehensions  that 
haunted  the  minds  of  Louis  and  Hector.  They 
spent  much  time  in  searching  the  northern 
shores  and  the  distant  islands,  in  the  vain  hope 
of  finding  her,  as  they  still  thought  the  camp 
might  have  been  moved  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  lake. 

Inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  their  beloved 
companion.  Hector  and  Louis  no  longer  took 
interest  in  what  was  going  on ;  they  hardly 
troubled  themselves  to  weed  the  Indian  corn, 
in  which  they  had  taken  such  great  delight ;  all 
now  seemed  to  them  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable; 
they  wandered  listlessly  to  and  fro,  silent  and 
Bad ;  the  sunshine  had  departed  from  their  little 


•>«• 


26 


806 


THE  CANADIAN   CIU'SOES. 


2^ 


i**a>^ 


W  ,*^»j 


'  m 

':«(. 


ft* 


dwelling;  they  ate  little,  and  talked  less,  each 
seemed  absorbed  in  his  own  painful  reveries. 

In  vain  the  gentle  Indian  girl  strove  to 
revive  their  drooping  spirits;  they  seemed  insen- 
sible to  her  attentions,  and  often  left  her  for 
hours  alone.  They  returned  one  evening  about 
the  usual  hour  of  sunset,  and  missed  their  meek, 
uncomplaining  guest  from  the  place  she  was 
wont  to  occupy.  They  called,  but  there  was 
none  to  reply — she  too  was  gone.  They  hur- 
ried to  the  shore  just  time  enough  to  see  the 
canoe  diminishing  to  a  mere  speck  upon  the 
waters,  in  the  direction  of  the  mouth  of  the 
river;  they  called  to  her  in  accents  of  despair, 
to  return,  but  the  wind  wafted  back  no  sound  to 
their  ears,  and  soon  the  bark  was  lost  to  sight, 
and  they  sat  them  down  disconsolately  on  the 
shore. 

"  What  is  she  doing  ?"  said  Hector ;  "  this  is 
cruel  to  abandon  us  thus." 

"  She  was  going  up  the  river,  with  the  hope 
of  bringing  us  some  tidings  of  Catharine,"  said 
Louis. 

"  How  came  you  to  think  that  such  is  her  in- 
tention ?" 

"  I  heard  her  say  the  other  day  that  she  would 
go  and  bring  her  back,  or  die." 

"  What  1  do  you  think  she  would  risk  the 


I  less,  each 

reveries. 

strove    to 

jmed  inseii- 

eft  her  for 

ning  about 

their  meek, 

;e   she  was 

there  was 

They  hur- 

to  see  the 

:   upon  the 

uth  of  the 

of  desjDair, 

10  sound  to 

►st  to  sight, 

ely  on  the 

r;  "this  is 

ii  the  hope 
trine,"  said 

is  her  in- 

she  would 

risk  the 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUS0E3. 


807 


vengeonce  of  the  old  chief  whose  life  she  at- 
tempted to  take  ?" 

"  She  is  a  brave  girl ;  she  does  not  fear  pain 
or  death  to  serve  those  she  loves  !'* 

"  Alas  1"  said  Hector,  "  she  will  perish  miser* 
ably  and  to  no  avail ;  they  would  not  restore  our 
dear  sister,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  Indiana's 
life." 

*'  How  can  she,  unprotected  and  alone,  dare 
such  perils  ?  Wliy  did  she  not  tell  us  ?  we 
would  have  shared  her  danger." 

"  She  feared  for  our  lives  more  than  for  her 
own ;  that  poor  Indian  girl  has  a  noble  heart. 
I  care  not  now  what  befalls  us ;  we  have  lost 
,all  that  made  life  dear  to  us,"  said  Louis  gloom- 
ily, sinking  his  head  between  his  knees. 

"  Hush,  Louis ;  you  are  older  than  I,  and 
ought  to  bear  these  trials  with  more  courage. 
It  was  our  own  fault,  Indiana's  leaving  us  ;  we 
left  her  so  much  alone  to  pine  after  her  lost 
companion ;  she  seemed  to  think  that  we  did 
not  care  for  her.  Poor  Indiana !  she  must  have 
felt  lonely  and  sad." 

"  I  tell  you  what  we  will  do,  Hec, — make  a 
log  canoe.  I  found  an  old  battered  one  lying 
on  the  shore,  not  far  from  Pine-tree  Point.  We 
have  an  axe  and  a  tomahawk, — what  should 
hinder  us  from  making  one  like  it?" 

•*  True !  we  will  set  about  it  to-morrow,'' 


i\ 


ni  i' 


'^'-^v 


'■"•%...'"': 


'      r( 


1! 


■*■ ' 


808 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOPZS. 


*'  I  wish  it  were  morning,  thiit  we  might  set  to 
work  to  cut  down  a  good  pine  ft>r  the  purpose. 

"  As  soon  a&  it  is  done,  we  will  go  up  the 
river;  any  thing  is  better  thnn  this  dreadful 
suspense  and  inaction." 

The  early  dawn  saw  the  two  cousins  busily 
engaged  chopping  at  a  tree  of  suitable  dimen- 
sions, and  they  worked  hard  all  that  day,  and 
the  next,  and  tlie  next,  before  the  canoe  was 
hollowed  out ;  and  then,  owing  to  their  inexpe- 
rience and  the  bluntness  of  their  tools,  their  first 
attempt  proved  abortive ;  it  was  too  heavy  at 
one  end,  and  did  not  balance  well  in  the  water. 

Louis,  who  had  been  quite  sure  of  success, 
was  disheartened  ;  not  so  Hector. 

"  Do  not  let  us  give  it  up  ;  my  maxim  is  per- 
severance; let  na  try  again,  and  again — aye! 
and  a  third  and  a  fourth  time.  I  say,  never  give 
it  up ;  that  is  the  way  to  succeed  at  last." 

"  You  have  ten  times  my  patience,  Hec." 

"Yes!  but  you  are  more  ingenious  than  I, 
and  are  excellent  at  starting  an  idea." 

"  We  are  a  good  pair  then  for  partnership." 

"  We  will  begin  anew ;  and  this  time  I  hope 
we  shall  profit  bv  our  past  blunders." 

"  Who  would  imagine  that  it  is  now  more 
than  a  month  since  we  lost  Catharine !" 

"I  know  it,  a  long,  long,- weary  month," 
replied   Louis,  and  be  struck  his  axe  sharply 


THE   CANADIAN   CKrSOES. 


309 


light  set  to 
!  purpose, 
go  up  the 
s  dreadful 


lins  busily 
3le  dimen- 
t  day,  and 
canoe  was 
■ir  inexpe- 
,  their  first 
>  heavy  at 
the  water. 
jf  success, 

ira  is  per- 

;ain — aye ! 

never  give 

ist." 

Hec." 

IS  than  I, 

ership." 
ne  I  hope 

low  more 

month," 
e  sharply 


into  the  bark  of  the  pine  as  he  spoke,  and 
remained  silent  for  some  minutes.  The  boys, 
wearied  by  chopping  down  the  tree,  rested 
from  their  work,  and  sat  down  on  the  side 
of  the  condemned  canoe  to  resume  their  con- 
versation. Suddenly  Louis  grasped  Hector's 
arm,  and  pointed  to  a  bark  canoe  that  appeared 
making  for  the  westernmost  point  of  the  island. 
Hector  started  to  his  feet  exclaiming,  "  It  is 
Indiana  returned  1" 

"  Nonsense  !  Indiana  ! — it  is  no  such  thing. 
Jjook  you,  it  is  a  stout  man  in  a  blanket  coat." 

"The  Indians?"  asked  Hector  inquiringly. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  looks  like  an  Indian ;  but 
let  us  watch.     What  is  he  doing?" 

"  Fishing.  See  now,  he  has  just  caught  a  fine 
l)ass — another — he  has  great  luck — now  he  is 
pushing  the  canoe  ashore." 

"  That  man  does  not  move  like  an  Indian — 
hark !  he  is  whistling.  I  ought  to  know  that 
tune.  It  sounds  like  the  old  chanson  my  father 
used  to  sing;"  and  Louis,  raising  his  voice, 
began  to  sing  the  words  of  an  old  French  Cana- 
dian song,  which  we  will  give  in  the  English 
as  we  heard  it  sung  by  an  old  lumberer. 

*  Down  by  those  banks  where  the  pleasant  waters  flow, 
Throiigli  the  wild  woods  we'll  wander,  and  we'll  chase  th« 
buffalo. 

And  we'll  chas<^  the  buffalo." 


•i 


810 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSO/:S. 


"Hush,  Louis  I  jou  will  bring  the  man  over 
to  us,"  said  Hector. 

"  The  very  thing  I  am  trying  to  do,  mon  ami. 
This  is  our  country,  and  that  may  be  his ;  but 
we  are  lords  here,  and  two  to  one — so  I  think  he 
will  not  be  likely  to  treat  us  ill.  I  am  a  man 
now,  and  so  are  you,  and  he  iu  but  one,  so  he 
must  mind  how  he  affronts  V£,''  replied  Louis 
laughing. 

"  I  wish  the  old  fellow  T/as  inclined  to  be 
sociable.  Hark,  if  he  is  not  singing  now !  aye, 
and  the  very  chorus  of  the  old  sorg," — and  Louis 
raised  his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch  as  he  re- 
peated, 

"  '  Through  the  wild  woods  we'll  wander, 
And  we'll  chase  the  buffalo — 
And  we'll  cliase  the  buffalo.' 


.4* 


» 


What  a  pity  I  have  forgotten  the  rest  of  that 
dear  old  song !  I  used  to  listen  with  open  ears 
to  it  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  never  thought  to 
hear  it  again,  and  to  hear  it  here  of  all  places  in 
the  world  1" 

*'  Come,  let  us  go  on  with  our  work,"  said 
Hector,  with  something  like  impatience  in  his 
voice  ;  and  the  strokes  of  his  axe  fell  once  moi  a 
in  regular  succession  on  the  log;  but  Louis's 
eye  w^as  still  on  the  mysterious  fisher,  whom 
he  could   discern  lounging  on   the   grass  and 


man  over 

mon  ami. 
;  his;  but 
I  think  he 
am  a  man 
3ne,  so  he 
ied  Louis 

led  to  be 
low!  aye, 
and  Louis 
as  he  re- 


t  of  that 
3pen  ears 
ought  to 
places  in 

rk,"  said 
ze  in  his 
nee  moi  a 
t  Louis's 
,  whom 
rass  and 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


811 


smoking  his  pipe.  "I  do  not  think  he  sees  or 
hears  us,"  said  Louis  to  himself,  "  but  I  tliink 
I'll  manage  to  bring  him  over  soon ;" — and  he 
set  himself  busily  to  work  to  scrape  up  the 
loose  chips  and  shavings,  and  soon  began  to 
strike  fire  with  his  knife  and  flint. 

"  What  are  you  about,  Louis  ?"  asked  Hector. 

"  Lighting  a  fire." 

"  It  is  warm    enough  without  a  fire,  I  am 


5? 


sure. 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  want  to  attract  the  notice 
of  yonder  tiresome  fisherman." 

"And  perhaps  bring  a  swarm  of  savages 
down  upon  us,  who  may  be  lurking  in  the 
bushes  of  the  island." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  Hec  ; — there  are  no  savages. 
I  am  weary  of  this  place — any  thing  is  better 
than  this  horrible  solitude."  And  Louis  lanned 
the  flame  into  a  rapid  blaze,  and  heaped  up  the 
light  dry  branches  till  it  soared  up  among  the 
bushes.  Louis  watched  the  effect  of  his  fire, 
and  rubbed  his 'hands  gleefully  as  the  bark  ca- 
noe was  pushed  off  from  the  island,  and  a  few 
vigorous  strokes  of  the  paddle  sent  it  dancing 
over  the  surface  of  the  calm  lake. 

Louis  waved  his  cap  above  his  head  with  a 
cheer  of  vrelcome  as  the  vessel  lightly  glided 
into  the  little  cove,  near  the  spot  where  the  boya 
were   chopping,    and   a  stout-framed,  weather- 


312 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


VI..U 


beaten  man,  in  a  blanket  coat,  also  fixded  and 
weather-beaten,  with  a  red  worsted  sash  and 
worn  mocassins,  sprung  upon  one  of  the  timbers 
of  Louis's  old  raft,  and  gazed  with  a  keen  eye 
upon  the  lads.  Each  party  silently  regarded 
the  other.  A  few  rapid  interrogations  from  the 
stranger,  uttered  in  the  broad  patois  of  the  Lower 
Province,  were  answered  in  a  mixture  of  broken 
French  and  English  by  Louis. 

A  change  like  lightning  passed  over  the 
face  of  the  old  man  as  he  cried  out — "  Louis 
Perron,  son  of  my  ancient  compagnon  !" 

"  Oui !  oui !" — with  eyes  sparkling  through 
tears  of  joy,  Louis  threw  himself  into  the  broad 
breast  of  Jacob  Morelle,  his  father's  friend  and 
»)ld  lumbering  comrade. 

"  Hector,  son  of  la  belle  Catharine  Perron," 
— and  Hector,  m  his  turn,  received  the  affec- 
tionate embrace  of  the  warm-hearted  old  man. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  of  meeting  with 
the  children  of  my  old  comrade  here  at  the 
shore  of  the  Eice  Lake  ? — -oh  I  what  a  joyful 
meeting!" 

Jacob  had  a  hundred  questions  to  ask  :  Where 
were  their  parents  ?  did  they  live  on  the  Plains 
now  ?  how  long  was  it  since  they  had  left  the 
Cold  Springs?  were  there  any  more  little  ones? 
and  so  Ibrth. 

The  boys  looked  sorrowfully  at  each  other. 


flided  and 

sash  and 

he  timbers 

keen  eye 

regarded 

s  from  the 

the  Lower 

of  broken 

over  the 
L — "Louis 
i!" 

y  through 
the  broad 
riend  and 

Perron," 
the  affec- 
)ld  man. 
ting  with 
e  at   the 

a  joyful 

:  Where 
le  Plains 
left  the 
le  ones? 

h  other. 


\ 


THE   CANADIAN    CKL'SOES. 


313 


At  last  the  old  man  st()[)|)L'(l  for  want  of  breath, 
and  remarked  their  sad  looks. 

"  What,  mes  tils,  are  your  parents  dead? 
Ah  well  I  I  did  not  think  to  have  outlived 
them  ;  but  they  luive  not  led  such  healthy  lives 
as  old  Jacob  Morelle — huntin<j^,  lisliin2,  lumber- 
ing,  trapping, — those  are  the  things  to  harden 
a  man  and  make  him  as  tough  as  a  stock-fish — 
eh  !  mes  enfans,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

Hector  then  told  the  old  lumberer  how  long 
they  had  been  separated  from  their  families,  and 
by  what  sad  accident  they  had  been  deprived  of 
the  society  of  their  beloved  sister.  When  they 
brought  their  narrative  down  to  the  disappear- 
ance of  Catharine,  the  whole  soul  of  the  old 
trapper  seemed  moved — he  started  from  the  log 
on  which  they  were  sitting,  and  with  one  of  his 
national  asseverations,  declared  "  That  la  bonne 
rille  should  not  remain  an  hour  longer  than  he 
could  help  among  those  savage  wretches.  Yes, 
he.  her  father's  old  friend,  would  go  up  the  river 
and  bring  her  back  in  safety,  or  leave  his  grey 
scalp  behind  him  among  the  wigwams.'' 

"It  is  too  late,  Jacob,  to  think  of  starting  to- 
day," said  Hector.  "  Come  home  with  us,  and 
eut  some  food,  and  rest  a  bit." 

"  No  need  of  that,  my  son.  I  have  a  lot  of 
fish  here  in  the  canoe,  and  there  is  an  old  shan- 

der,  if  it  be  still  standi 


ty 


y 


'"gi 


27 


814 


THE   CANADIAN    CHUSOES. 


'  n 


t'-'i 


• — the  Trapper's  Fort,  I  used  to  will  it  some  years 
ago.  We  will  go  oil'  to  lie  island  and  look 
for  it." 

*'No  need  for  that,"  replied  Louis,  "for 
though  I  can  tell  you  the  old  plaee  is  still  in 
good  repair,  for  we  used  it  this  very  s])riiigas  a 
boiling  house  for  our  maple  sop,  yet  we  have  a 
better  place  of  our  own  nearer  at  hand — just 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  over  the  brow  ol 
yonder  hill.  So  come  with  us,  and  you  shall 
jbave  a  good  su|)per,  and  bod  to  lie  upon." 

"  And  you  have  all  these,  boys!"  said  Jacob, 
opening  his  merry  black  eyes,  as  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  little  log-house  and  the  field  of  green 
corn. 

The  old  man  praised  the  boys  for  their  in- 
dustry and  energy.  "  Ua !  here  is  old  W  olfe  too," 
as  the  dog  roused  himself  from  the  hearth 
and  gave  one  of  his  low  grumbling  growls. 
He  had  grown  dull  and  dreamy,  and  instead 
of  going  ou't  as  usual  with  the  young  hunters, 
lie  would  lie  for  hours  dozing  before  the  dying 
embers  of  the  fire.  ELe  pined  for  the  loving 
hand  that  used  to  pat  his  sides,  and  caress  his 
shaggy  neck,  and  pillow  his  great  head  upon 
her  lap,  or  suffer  him  to  put  his  huge  paws  upon 
her  shoulders,  while  he  licked  her  hands  and 
face ;  but  she  was  gone,  and  the  Indian  girl 
was  gone,   and   the   light  of  the   shanty   had 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


315 


some  years 
I  and   look 

jouis,    "  for 
i  is  still   in 

sj)ring  as  a 
;  we  have  a 

hand — just 
he  brow  ol 
:1  you  shall 
,ipon." 

said  Jaeob, 
ley  came  in 
eld  of  green 

or  their  in- 
Vvolfetoo," 
the  hearth 
ng  fijrovvls. 
md  instead 
g  hunters, 
the  dying 
the  loving 
caress  his 
head  upon 
paws  upon 
hands  and 
vidian  girl 
hanty   had 


gone  with  them.  Old  Wolfe  secnicd  dying 
of  sorrow. 

That  evening  as  Jacob  sat  on  the  three-legged 
stool,  smoking  his  short  Indian  pipe,  he  again 
would  liavc  the  whole  stoiy  of  their  wanderings 
over,  and  the  history  of  all  their  doings  and 
contrivances. 

"And  how  far,  mes  enfans,  do  you  think  you 
are  from  the  Cold  Springs?" 

"At  least  twenty  miles,  perhaps  fifty,  for  it  is 
a  long,  long  time  now  since  we  left  home,  three 


summers  ago. 


») 


"  Well,  boys,  you  must  not  reckon  distance 
by  the  time  you  have  been  absent,"  said  the  old 
man.  "  Now  I  know  the  distance  through  the 
woods,  for  I  have  passed  through  -them  on  the 
Indian  trail,  and  by  my  reckoning  as  the  bee 
flies,  it  cannot  be  more  than  seven  or  eight  miles 
— no,  nor  that  either." 

The  boys  opened  their  eyes.  "  Jacob,  is  this 
possible  ?  So  near,  and  yet  to  us  the  distance 
has  been  as  great  as  though  it  were  a  hundred 
miles  or  more." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  boys,  that  is  the  provoking 
part  of  it.  I  remember  when  I  was  out  on  the 
St.  John's,  lumbering,  missing  my  comrades, 
and  I  was  well-nigh  starving,  when  I  chanced 
to  come  back  to  the  spot  where  we  parted ;  and 
1  verily  believe  I  had  not  been  two  miles  distant 


I .' 


316 


TIIK    CANADIAN    CKl'SOKS. 


m 

w 

if. 


iU'l 


1 


the  whole  ci^ht  days  tliat  I  was  moving  round 
and  round,  and  backward  and  forward,  just  in  a 
circle,  hecauso,  d'ye  see,  T  followed  the  sun,  ami 
that  led  ine  astray  the  whole  time." 
"  Was  that  when  you  well-nigh 


bear?"    asked    Louis,    with    a    sly   gl 


roasted 
ince 


th 


e 
at 


lleet( 


)r. 


(( 


Well, 


no;    that   was   another   time;  your 


father  was  out  with  me  then."  And  old  Jacob, 
knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  settled  him- 
self to  recount  the  adventure  of  the  bear.  EEec- 
tor,  who  hail  heard  Louis's  edition  of  the  roast 
bear,  was  almost  impatient  at  being  forced  to 
listen  to  old  Jacob's  long-winded  history,  which 
included  about  a  dt)zen  other  stories,  all  tagged 
on  to  this,  like  links  of  a  lengthened  chain ;  and 
was  not  sorry  when  the  old  lumberer,  taking  his 
red  nightcap  out  of  his  pocket,  at  last  stretched 
himself  out  on  a  buffalo  skin  that  he  had  brought 
up  from  the  canoe,  and  soon  was  soundly 
sleeping. 

The  morning  was  yet  grey  when  the  old  man 
shook  himself  from  his  slumber,  which,  if  not 
deep,  had  been  loud  ;  and  after  having  roused  up 
a  good  fire,  which,  though  the  latter  end  of  July, 
at  that  dewy  hour,  was  not  unwelcome,  he  lighted 
his  pi})e,  and  began  broiling  a  fish  on  the  coals 
for  his  breakfast;  and  was  thus  engaged  when 
Hector  and  Louis  wakened. 


)ving  round 
inl,  just  in  a 
the  sun,  Jiml 

roasted  the 
r   glance    at 

time ;  your 

d  old  Jacob, 

settled  him- 

boar.     Ilec- 

of  the  roast 

ig  forced  to 

story,  which 

,  all  tagged 

chain ;  and 

taking  his 

St  stretched 

ad  brought 

as    soundly 

he  old  man 
lich,  if  not 

roused  up 
nd  of  July, 

he  lighted 
n  the  coals 
aged  when 


'J 


THE   CAXADTAX   CHUS0E3. 


817 


"Mesenfans,"  sjid  Jacob,  "T  have  been  turn- 
ing over  in  my  iniiui  about  your  sister,  and  have 
come  to  the  resoiirtion  of  going  up  the  river  alone 
without  any  one  to  accompany  me.  1  know  the" 
Indians;  they  are  asus})icious  peo{)le,  thtiv  deal 
much  in  stratagems,  and  they  are  apt  to  expe(!t 
treachery  in  vHhers.  Perhaps  they  have  had 
some  reason  ;  for  the  white  men  have  nt)t  always 
ke})t  good  faith  with  them,  which  I  take  to  be 
the  greater  shame,  as  they  have  God's  laws  to 
guide  and  teach  them  to  be  true  and  just  in  their 
dealing,  which  the  poor  benighted  heathen  have 
not,  the  more's  the  pity.  Now,  d'ye  see,  if  the 
Indians  see  two  stout  lads  with  me,  they  will  say 
to  themselves,  there  may  be  more  left  behind, 
skulking  in  ambush.  So  boys,  I  go  to  the  camp 
alone;  and,  God  willing,  I  will  bring  back  your 
sister,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  I  shall  not  go 
single-handed ;  see,  I  have  here  scarlet-cloth, 
beads,  and  powder  and  shot.  I  carry  no  fire- 
water ;  it  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  tempt  these 
poor  wretches  to  their  own  destruction  ;  it 
makes  fiends  of  them  at  once." 

It  was  to  no  purpose  that  Hector  and  Louis 
passionately  besought  old  Jacob  to  let  them 
share  the  dangers  of  the  expedition ;  the  old 
man  was  firm,  and  would  not  be  moved  from 
his  purpose. 

"Look  you,  boys,"  he  said,   "if  I  do  not 
27* 


318 


THE   CANADIAN   CHUS0E3. 


*!, 


J II, 

m 


I 


return  by  the  beginning  of  the  rice-harvest,  you 
may  supporfc  that  evil  has  befallen  ine  and  the 
girl  ;  then  1  would  advise  you  to  take  care  for 
your  own  salety,  for  if  they  do  not  respect  my 
grey  head,  neither  will  they  spare  your  young 
ones.  In  such  case,  make  yourselves  a  good 
canoe — a  dug-out*  will  do — and  go  down  the 
lake  till  you  are  stopped  by  the  rapids  ;f  make 
a  portage  there ;  but  as  your  craft  is  too  weighty 
to  carry  far,  e'en  leave  her  and  chop  out  another, 
and  go  down  to  the  Fall  ;f  then,  if  you  do  not 
like  to  be  at  any  further  trouble,  you  may  make 
out  your  journey  to  the  bay§  on  foot,  coasting 
along  the  river ;  there  you  will  fall  in  with 
settlers  who  know  old  Jacob  Morelle — aye,  and 
your  two  fathers — and  they  will  put  you  in  the 
way  of  returning  home.  If  I  were  to  try  ever  so 
to  put  you  on  the  old  Indian  trail  in  the  woods, 
though  I  know  it  myself  right  well,  you  might 
be  lost,  and  maybe  never  return  home  again.  I 
leave  my  traps  and  my  rifle  with  you ;  I  shall 
not  need  them :  if  I  come  back  I  may  claim  the 
things ;  if  not,  they  are  yours.  So  now  I  have 
said  my  say,  had  my  talk,  as  the  Indians  say. 
Farewell.  But  first  let  us  pray  to  Him  who 
alone  can  bring  this  matter  to  a  safe  issue." 
And  the  old  man  devoutly  kneeled  down,  and 


*  Log-canoe. 

J  Heeley's  Falls,  on  the  Trent. 


t  Crook's  Rapida. 
§  Bay  ofQuintd 


-liar vest,  yon 
1  me  and  the 
:ake  care  for 
)t  respect  my 

your  young 
ilves  a  good 
^o  down  the 
pids;f  make 
?  too  weighty 

out  another, 
'  you  do  not 
u  may  make 
3ot,  coasting 
Pall  in  with 
e — aye,  and 
t  you  in  the 

0  try  ever  so 

1  the  woods, 
,  you  might 
ne  again.  I 
^ou ;  I  shall 
ly  claim  the 
now  I  have 
ndians  sav. 
)  Him  who 
safe  issue." 
down,  and 

k's  Rapids. 
ofQuinta. 


THE  CAXADIAX  CRUSOES. 


319 


prayed  for  a  blessing  on  his  voyage  and  on  those 
he  was  leaving;  and  then  hastened  down  to. the 
beach,  and  the  boys,  with  full  hearts,  watched 
the  canoe  till  it  was  lost  to  their  sight  on  the 
wide  waters  of  the  lake. 


! 


320 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


CHAPTER   XV. 


w 


w 


"  Where  wild  in  woods  the  lordly  savag«  ran.  • 

Dkyden 


HAT  changes  a  few  years  make  in  places  1 
That  spot  over  which  the  Indians  roved, 
free  of  all  control,  is  now  a  large  and  wide- 
spreading  town.  Those  glorious  old  trees  are 
fast  fading  away,  the  memory  only  of  them  re- 
mains to  some  of  the  first  settlers,  who  saw  them 
twenty-five  years  ago,  shadowing  the  now  open 
market-place ;  the  fine  old  oaks  have  disappear- 
ed, but  the  green  emerald  turf  that  they  once 
shaded  still  remains.  The  wild  rushing  river 
still  pours  down  its  resistless  spring  floods,  but 
its  banks  have  been  levelled,  and  a  noble  bridge 
now  spans  its  rapid  waters.  It  has  seen  the  de- 
struction of  two  log-bridges,  but  this  new,  sub- 
stantial, imposing  structure  bids  fair  to  stand 
from  generation  to  generation.  The  Indian  re 
gards  it  with  stupid  wonder :  he  is  no  mechanic ; 
his  simple  canoe  of  birch  bark  is  his  only  notion 
of  communication  from  one  shore  to  another. 
The  townspeople  and  country  settlers  view  it 
with  pride  and  satisfaction,  as  a  means  of  com- 
merce and  agricultural  advantage.     That  lonely 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


321 


r^  ran. 


Dryden 

ie  in  places  1 
idians  roved, 
e  and  wide- 
)ld  trees  are 
'  of  them  re- 
ho  saw  them 
e  now  open 
e  disappear- 
at  they  once 
lushing  river 
ig  floods,  but 
loble  bridge 
Iseen  the  de- 
lis new,  sub- 
tiir  to  stand 
e  Indian  re 
|o  mechanic ; 
only  notion 
to  another, 
llers  view  it 
lans  of  com- 
iThat  lonely 


hill,  from  which  Catharine  \iewed  the  rapid 
flowing  river  by  moonlight,  and  marvelled  at 
its  beauty  and  its  power,  is  now  Court-house 
Hill,  the  seat  of  justice  for  the  district, — a  fine, 
substantial  edifice;  its  shining  roof  and  pillared 
portico  may  be  seen  from  every  approach  to  the 
town.  That  grey  village  spire,  with  its  groves 
of  oak  and  pine,  how  invitingly  it  stands!  those 
trees  that  embower  it,  once  formed  a  covert  for 
the  deer.  Yonder  scattered  groups  of  neat 
white  cottages,  each  with  its  garden  of  flowers 
and  fruit,  are  spread  over  what  was  once  an 
open  plain,  thinly  planted  with  poplar,  oaks, 
and  pine.  See,  there  is  another  church ;  and 
nearer,  towards  the  west  end  of  the  town,  on  that 
fine  slope,  stands  another,  and  another.  That 
sound  that  falls  upon  the  ear  is  not  the  rapids 
of  the  river,  but  the  dash  of  mill  wheels  and 
mill  dams,  worked  by  the  waters  of  that  lovely 
winding  brook  which  has  travelled  far  through 
woods  and  deep  forest  dingles  to  yield  its  tribute 
to  the  Otonabee.  There  is  the  busy  post-office, 
on  the  velvet  carpet  of  turf;  a  few  years,  yes, 
even  a  few  j^ears  ago,  that  spot  was  a  grove  of 
trees.  The  neat  log  building  that  stood  then 
alone  there  was  inhabited  by  the  Government 
Agent,  now  Colonel  Macdonald,  and  groups  of 
Indians  might  be  seen  congregated  on  the  green, 
or  reposing  under  the  trees,  forming?  meet  sub- 


822 


THK   CAN  A  DT  AX   CRUSOES. 


•SI 


(♦ml 


jects  for  tlic  painter's  pencil,  for  he  knew  tliom 
well,  and  was  kind  to  them. 

The  Indian  only  visits  the  town,  once  the 
favourite  site  for  his  hunting-lodge,  to  receive 
his  annual  government  presents,  to  trade  his 
simple  wares  of  basket  and  birch-bark  work,  to 
bring  in  his  furs,"  or  maybe  to  sell  his  fish  or 
venison,  and  take  back  such  store  goods  as  his 
intercourse  with  his  white  brethren  has  made 
him  consider  necessary  to  his  comforts,  to  sup- 
ply wants  which  have  now  become  indispen- 
sable, before  undreamed  of  He  traverses 
those  populous,  busy  streets,  he  looks  round 
upon  dwellings,  and  gay  clothes,  and  equi- 
pages, and  luxuries  which  he  can  neither  obtain 
nor  imitate,  and  feels  his  spirit  lowered  ; — he 
is  no  more  a  people — the  tide  of  intellect  has 
borne  him  down,  and  swept  hjs  humble  wig- 
wam from  the  earth.  He,  too,  is  changing : 
he  now  dwells,  for  the  most  part,  in  villages, 
in  houses  that  cannot  be  moved  awav  at  his 
will  or  necessity ;  he  has  become  a  tiller  of 
the  ground,  his  hunttng  expeditions  are  pre- 
scribed within  narrow  bounds,  the  forest  is  dis- 
appearing, the  white  man  is  every  where.  The 
Indian  must  also  vield  to  circumstances ;  he 
submits  patientl3^  Perhaps  he  murmurs  in 
secret ;  but  his  voice  is  low,  it  is  not  heard  : 
he  has  no  representative  in  the  senate  to  take 


\i^ 


THE   CANADIAN    CRL'SOES. 


323 


knew  til  em 

n,  once  the 
,  to  receive 
to  trade  hi? 
Lrk  work,  to 
.  his  firih  or 
croods  as  his 
1  has  made 
forts,  to  sup- 
le    indispen- 
[e    traverses 
ooks    round 
!,   and    equi- 
ither  obtain 
)\vered ; — he 
ntellect  has 
lumble  wig- 
changing  : 
in  villages, 
awav  at  his 
a  tiller  of 
ns   are  pre- 
forest  is  dis- 
vhere.     The 
stances ;  he 
nurmurs   in 
not  heard: 
ate  to  take 


interest  in  his  welfare,  to  plead  in  his  bcdialf. 
He  is  anxious,  too,    for  the    improvement   of 
his    race :    he    gladly  listens  to    the  words  of 
life,    and    sees    with    joy    his    children    being 
brought    up    in    the    fear    and  nurture  of  the 
Lord ;    he    sees  with   pride   some  of  his  own 
blood  going  forth  on    the    mission  of   love  to 
other  distant  tribes ;    he  is    proud  of  being  a 
Christian  ;  and  if  there  be  some  that  still  look 
back  to  the  freedom  of  former  years,  and  talk 
of  "  the  gpod  old  times,"  when  they  wandered 
free  as    the  winds    and  waters    through  those 
giant    woods,  they  are    fast    fading   away.     A 
new  race  is  rising  up,  and  the  old  hunter  will 
soon  become  a  being  unknown  in  Canada. 

There  is  an  old  gnarled  oak  that  stands,  or 
lately  stood,  on  the  turfy  bank,  just  behind  the 
old  Government-house,  (as  the  settlers  called 
it,)  looking  down  the  precipitous  cliff  on  the 
river  and  ohe  islands.  The  Indians  called  it 
"  the  white  girl's  rest,"  for  it  was  there  that 
Catharine  delighted  to  sit,  above  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  camp,  to  sing  her  snatches  of  old 
Scottish  songs,  or  pray  the  captive  exile's  prayer, 
unheard  and  unseen. 

The  setting  sun  was  casting  long  shadows  of 
oak  and  weeping  elm  athwart  the  waters  of  tho 
river;  the  light  di])  of  the  paddle  had  ceased  on 
the  water,  the  baying  of  hounds  and  life-lik« 


tyi 


t. 


■'Hi 


'■■II 

a 

•■« 
" » 


J 


824 


THE   CAXADIAX    CHUSOES. 


Stirring  sounds  from  the  lodges  came  soflenecl 
to  th<^  listening  ear.  The  hunters  had  come  in 
with  the  spoils  of  a  successful  chase ;  the  wig- 
wam fires  are  flickering  and  crackling,  sending 
up  their  light  columns  of  thin,  blue  smoke 
among  the  trees ;  and  now  a  goodly  portion  of 
venison  is  roasting  on  the  forked  sticks  before 
the  fires.  Each  lodge  has  its  own  cooking 
utensils.  That  jar  embedded  in  the  hot  embers 
contains  sassafras  tea,  an  aromatic  beveraare,  in 
which  the  squaws  delight  when  they  are  so  for- 
tunate as  to  procure  a  supply.  This  has  been 
brought  from  the  Credit,  far  up  in  the  west,  by 
a  family  who  have  come  down  on  a  special 
mission  from  some  great  chief  to  his  brethren  on 
the  Otonabee,  and  the  squaws  have  cooked  some 
in  honour  of  the  guests.  That  pot  that  sends 
up  such  a  savoury  steam  is  venison  pottage,  or 
soup,  or  stew,  or  any  name  you  choose  to  give 
the  Indian  mess  that  is  concocted  of  venison, 
wild  rice,  and  herbs.  Those  tired  hounds  that 
lay  stretched  before  the  fire  have  been  out,  and 
now  they  enjoy  the  privilege  of  the  fire,  some 
praise  from  the  hunters,  and  receive  withal  an 
occasional  reproof  from  the  squaws,  if  they  ap- 
proach their  wishful  noses  too  close  to  the 
tempting  viands. 

The  .elder  boys  are  shooting  at  a  mark  on 
yonder  birch-tree ;  the  girls  are  playing  or  roll 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


325 


ime  soflened 
had  come  in 
the  wis 


,se 


o 


ling,  sending 

blue   smoke 

ly  portion  of 

sticks  before 

)wn    cooking 

e  hot  embers 

beverasfe,  in 

3y  are  so  for- 

^his  has  been 

the  west,  by 

on  a  special 

3  brethren  on 

cooked  some 

i  that  sends 

pottage,  or 
oose  to  give 

of  venison, 
hounds  that 
een  out,  and 
le  fire,  some 
ve  withal  an 
i,  if  they  ap- 
lose   to   the 

a  mark  on 
^ing  or  roll 


ing  on 


tl 


ic  grass ; 


Tlie  Snow-bird"  is  seated  on 
the  floor  of  the  wigwam  braiding  a  necklace  of 
sweet  grass,  which  she  conflnes  in  links  by  means 
of  little  bands  of  coloured  quills ;  Catharine  is 
working  mocassins  beside  her; — a  dark  shadow 
falls  across  her  work  from  the  open  tent  door — 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  displeasure  from 
one  of  the  women  makes  Catharine  raise  her 
eyes  to  the  doorway ;  there,  silent,  pale,  and 
motionless,  the  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self,  n 
stands  Indiana — a  gleam  of  joy  lights  for  an 
instant  her  large  lustrous  eyes.  Amazement 
and  delight  at  the  sight  of  her  beloved  friend 
for  a  moment  deprives  Catharine  of  the  pov/er  of 
speech  ;  then  terror  for  the  safety  of  her  friend 
takes  place  of  her  joy  at  seeing  her.  She  rises 
regardless  of  the  angry  tones  of  the  Indian 
woman's  voice,  and  throws  her  arms  about 
Indiana  as  if  to  shield  her  from  threatened 
danger,  and  sobs  her  welcome  in  her  arms. 

"  Indiana,  dear  sister  I  how  came  you  hither, 
and  for  what  purpose?" 

"  To  free  you,  and  then  die,"  was  the  soft, 
low,  tremulous  answer.     "  Follow  me." 

Catharine,  wondering  at  the  calm  and  fearless 
manner  with  which  the  young  Mohawk  waved 
back  the  dusky  matron  who  approached  as  it 
with  the  design  of  laying  hands  upon  her 
unwelcome  guest,  followed  with  beating  heart 
28 


82G 


THE   CANADIAN   CJIUSOES. 


'      *^, 


'  'I 

•   « 

■Jk 


I 
k 


till  they  stood  in  the  entrance  of  the^  lodge 
of  the  Bald  Eagle;  it  was  tilled  witli  the 
hunters,  who  were  stretched  on  skins  on  the 
floor  reposing  in  quiet  after  the  excitement  of 
the  chase. 

The  young  Mohawk  bent  her  head  down  and 
crossed  her  arms,  in  attitude  of  submission,  over 
her  breast  as  she  stood  in  the  opening  of  the 
lodge  ;  but  she  spoke  no  word  till  the  old  chief 
waving  back  the  men,  who  starting  to  their  feet 
were  gathering  round  him  as  if  to  shield  him  from 
danger,  and  sternly  regarding  her,  demanded 
from  whence  she  came  and  for  what  purpose. 

"To  submit  myself  to  the  will  of  my  Ojebwa 
father,"  was  the  meek  reply.  "  May  the  daughter 
of  the  Bald  Eagle's  enemy  speak  to  her  great 
father?" 

"  Say  on,"  was  the  brief  reply,  "  the  Bald 
Eagle's  ears  are  open." 

"  The  Bald  Eagle  is  a  mighty  chief,  the  con- 
queror of  his  enemies  and  the  father  of  his 
people,"  replied  the  Mohawk  girl,  and  again 
was  silent. 

"  The  Mohawk  squaw  speaks  well ;  let  her 
say  01^." 

"  The  heart  of  the  Mohawk  is  an  open  flower, 
it  can  be  looked  upon  by  the  eye  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  She  speaks  the  words  of  truth.  The 
Ojebwa  chief  slew  his  enemies,  they  had  done 


3. 


THE   CAXADIAX   CIIUSOES. 


327 


f  tliG  lodge 
d  with  the 
kins  on  the 
citement  of 

d  down  and 
lission,  over 
sning  of  the 
be  old  chief 
to  their  feet 
3ld  him  from 
,  demanded 
:  purpose, 
my  Ojebwa 
he  daughter 
o  her  great 

"the  Bald 

ef,  the  con- 
iher  of  his 
and  again 

II ;   let  her 

)en  flower, 
the  Great 

uth.  The 
had  done 


his  good  heart  wrong;  he  punished  them  forthf* 
wrong  they  wrought;  he  left  none  living  in  the 
lodges  of  his  enemies  save  one  young  squaw, 
the  daughter  of  a  brave,  the  granddaughter  of 
the  Black  Snake.  The  Bald  Eagle  loves  even 
an  enemy  that  is  not  afraid  to  raise  the  war- 
whoop  or  fling  the  tomahawk  in  battle.  The 
young  girl's  mother  was  a  brave,"  She  paused, 
while  her  proud  eye  was  flxed  on  tlie  face  of  her 
aged  auditor.  Jle  nodded  assent,  and  she  re- 
sumed, while  a  flush  of  emotion  kindled  her  pale 
cheek  and  reddened  her  lips, — 

"  The  Bald  Eagle  brought  the  lonely  one  to 
his  lodge,  he  buried  the  hatchet  and  the  scalping- 
knife,  he  bade  his  squaws  comfort  her ;  but  her 
heart  was  lonely,  she  pined  for  the  homes  of  her 
fathers.  She  said,  I  will  revenge  my  flither,  my 
mother,  and  my  brothers  and  sisters ;  and  her 
heart  burned  within  her  :  but  her  hand  was  not 
strong  to  shed  blood,  the  Great  Spirit  was  about 
my  Ojebwa  father ;  she  failed  and  would  have 
fled,  for  an  arrow  was  in  her  flesh.  The  people 
of  the  Bald  Eagle  took  her,  they  brought  her 
down  the  great  river  to  the  council  hill,  they 
bound  her  with  thongs  and  left  her  to  die.  She 
prayed,  and  the  Great  Spirit  heard  her  prayer 
and  sent  her  help.  The  white  man  came ;  his 
heart  was  soft  ;  he  unbound  her,  he  gave  water 
to  cool  her  hot  lips,  he  led  her  to  his   lodge. 


1 


.1 
I 

t 


828 


THE   CANADIAN    CllUSOES. 


The  white  sqnaw  (and  she  pointed  to  Catharitie) 
was  there,  she  bound  up  her  wounds,  she  laid 
her  on  her  own  bed,  she  gave  her  meat  and 
drinlv,  and  tended  her  with  love.  She  taught 
her  to  pray  to  the  Good  Spirit,  and  told  her  to 
return  good  for  evil,  to  be  true  and  just,  kind 
and  merciful.  The  hard  heart  of  the  young  girl 
became  soft  as  clay  when  moulded  for  the  pots, 
and  she  loved  her  white  sister  and  brothers,  and 
was  happy.  The  Bald  Eagle's  people  came, 
when  my  white  brothers  were  at  peace,  they 
found  a  trembling  fawn  within  the  lodge,  they 
led  her  away,  they  left  tears  and  loneliness 
where  joy  and  peace  had  been.  The  Mohawk 
squaw  could  not  see  the  hearth  of  her  white 
brothers  desolate  ;  she  took  the  canoe,  she  came 
to  the  lodge  of  the  great  father  of  his  tribe,  and 
she  says  to  him,  '  Give  back  the  white  squaw  to 
her  home  on  the  Rice  Lake,  and  take  in  her 
stead  the  rebellious  daughter  of  the  Ojebwa's 
enemy,  to  die  or  be  his  servant ;  she  fears  not 
now  the  knife  or  the  tomahawk,  the  arrow  or  the 
spear  :  her  life  is  in  the  hand  of  the  great  chief.' " 
She  sank  on  her  knees  as  she  spoke  these  last 
words,  and  bowing  down  her  head  on  her  breast 
remained  motionless  as  a  statue. 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  then 
the  old  man  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Daughter   of  a   brave    woman,    thou   hast 


THE   CANADIAN    Clil'SOES. 


829 


)  Catharine) 
da,  she  laid 
r  meat  and 
She  taught 
told  her  to 
1  just,  kind 


young 


sir] 


br  the  pots, 

rothers,  and 

3ople  came, 

peace,  they 

lodge,  they 

1  loneliness 

he  Mohawk 

■   her  white 

)e,  she  came 

s  tribe,  and 

e  squaw  to 

ake  in  her 

e  Ojebwa's 

fears  not 

rrow  or  the 

eat  chief.' " 

|e  these  last 

her  breast 

3,  and  then 

thou   hast 


spoken  long,  and  thou  hast  spoken  well;  the 
ears  of  the  Biild  Kugle  have  been  open.  The 
white  sipuiw  shall  be  restijred  to  her  brother's 
lodge — but  thou  remaiiiest.     1  have  spoken." 

Catharine  in  tears  cast  her  arms  around  her 
disinterested  friend  and  remained  weeping — how 
could  she  accept  this  great  sacrifice  ?  She  in  her 
turn  jjleaded  for  the  life  and  liberty  of  the 
Mohawk,  but  the  chief  turned  a  cold  ear  to  her 
passionate  and  incoherent  pleading,  lie  was 
weary — he  was  impatient  of  further  excitement 
— he  coldly  motioned  to  them  to  withdraw  ;  and 
the  friends  in  sadness  retired  to  talk  over  all 
that  had  taken  place  since  that  sad  day  when 
Catharine  was  taken  from  her  home.  While  her 
heai't  was  joyful  at  the  prospect  of  her  own  re- 
lease, it  was  clouded  with  fears  for  the  uncertain 
fate  of  her  beloved  friend. 

"  Tliey  will  condemn  me  to  a  cruel  death,'* 
said  Indiana,  "  but  I  can  suffer  and  die  for  my 
white  sister." 

That  night  the  Indian  girl  slept  sweetly  and 
tranquilly  beside  Catharine ;  but  Catharine 
could  not  sleep;  she  communed  with  her  own 
heart  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night — it 
seemed  as  if  a  jiew  life  had  been  infused  within 
her.  She  no  longer  thought  and  felt  as  a  child  ; 
the  energies  of  her  mind  had  been  awakened, 

ripened  into  maturity  as  it  were,  and  suddenly 
28* 


i'i'- 


B80 


THE    CANADIAN    CUUSOEft. 


*^\ 


ii 


n 

'•II  il 


exp.'UuL'd.  When  nil  the  inmates  of  the  lodges 
were  profonndly  slecpin^^  Cathiirinc  arose, — a 
Budden  thought  had  entered  into  her  mind,  and 
iihe  liesitated  not  to  put  her  design  into  cxeeu- 
tion.  There  was  no  moon,  but  a  bi-ight  areh  (jf 
]i.L;ht  spanned  the  forest  to  the  noi'th  ;  it  was  mild 
and  soft  as  moonlight,  but  less  bi  ight,  and  east 
no  shadow  aeross  her  path  ;  it  showed  her  the 
saered  tent  of  the  widow  of  the  murdered 
Mohawk.  With  noiseless  step  she  lifted  aside 
the  curtain  of  skins  that  guarded  it,  and  stood 
at  the  entrance.  Light  as  was  her  step,  it 
awakened  the  sleeper ;  she  raised  herself  on  her 
arm  and  looked  up  with  a  dreamy  and  ab- 
btracted  air  as  Catharine,  stretching  forth  her 
hand,  in  tones  low  and  tremulous  thus  addressed 
her  in  the  Ojebwa  tongue, — 

"The  Great  Si)irit  sends  me  to  thee,  0  wo- 
man of  much  sorrow ;  he  asks  of  thee  a  great 
deed  of  mercy  and  goodness.  Thou  hast  shed 
blood,  and  he  is  angry.  He  bids  thee  to  save 
the  life  of  an  enemy — the  blood  of  thy  murdered 
husband  flows  in  her  veins.  See  that  thou 
disobey  not  the  words  that  he  commands." 

She  dropped  the  curtain  and  retired  as  she 
had  come,  with  noiseless  step,  and  lay  down 
again  in  the  tent  beside  Indiana.  Her  heart 
beat  as  though  it  would  burst  its  way  through 
her  bosom.     What  had  she  done  ? — what  dared  ? 


f  the  M'^cs 
ic  arose, — a 
r  mind,  and 
into  cxecu' 
i-ilit  iirch  of 


Til  10    CANADIAN'    CUL'SOK.S. 


331 


It  wiis  in 


ild 


)ht,  and  cast 
i\vcd  licT  iho 
c  murdered 
3  lifted  aside 
it,  and  stood 
licr  step,  it 
erself  on  her 
my  and  ab- 
forth  her 
us  addressed 


J 


thee,  0  wo- 
thee  a  great 
u  hast  shed 
thee  to  save 
ly  murdered 
3  that   thou 
nands." 
ired  as  she 
lay  dovni 
Her  heart 
ay  through 
Lvhat  dared  ? 


She  had  entered   tlie    prcsenee  of  that  terrible 
woman  alone,  at  the   dead   lujur  of  night!  she 
had  spoken  bold  and  presumptuous  words  to  that 
strange  being  whom  even  her  own  peo[)le  hardly 
dared  to  approach  uncalled-for  !     Sick  with  ter- 
ror at  the  eonsecpiences  of  her  temerity,  Catha- 
rine cast  her  trembling  arms  Jibout  the  sleeping 
Indian  girl,  and  hiding  her  head  in  her  bosom, 
we[)t  and  prayed  till  sleep  came  (;ver  her  wea- 
ried spirit.     It  was  late  wluni  she  awoke.     She 
was  alone :  the  lodge  was  empty.     A  vague  fear 
seized  her :  she  hastily  arose  to  seek  her  friend. 
It  was  evident  that  some  great  event  was  in 
})reparation.     The  Indian  men  had  put  on  the 
war-paint,  and  strange  and  ferocious  eyes  were 
glancing  from  beneath  their  shaggy  locks.     A 
stake  was  driven  in  the  centre  of  the  cleared 
space  in  front  of  the  chief's  lodge :  there,  bound, 
she  beheld  her  devoted  friend ;  pale  as  ashes, 
but  with  a   calm,-  unshaken    countenance    she 
stood.     There  was  no  sign   of  woman's  fear  in 
her  fixed  dark  eye,  which  quailed  not  before  the 
sight    of    the   death-dooming   men    who  stood 
round  her,  armed  with  their  terrible  wefiipons  of 
destruction.     Her   thoughts  seemed  far  away  : 
perhaps  they  were  with  her  dead  kindred,  wander- 
ing in  that  happy  land  to  which  the  Indian  hopes 
to  go  after  life ;  or,  inspired  with  ihc  new  hope 
whicl  had  been  opened  to  her^  she  was  looking 


^1 


882 


THE    CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


to  Hirii  who  has  promised  a  crown  of  life  to 
such  as  believe  in  His  name.  She  saw  not  the 
look  of  agony  with  which  Catharine  regarded 
her  ;  and  the  poor  girl,  full  of  grief,  sunk  down 
at  the  foot  of  a  neighbouring  tree,  and  burying 
her  face  between  her  knees,  wept  and  prayed — 
oh  1  how  fervently  I  A  hope  crept  to  her  heart 
— even  while  the  doom  of  Indiana  seemed  dark- 
est— that  some  good  might  yet  accrue  from  her 
visit  to  the  wigwam  of  the  Great  Medicine 
squaw.  She  knew  that  the  Indians  have  great 
belief  in  omens,  and  warnings,  and  spirits,  both 
good  and  evil ;  she  knew  that  her  mysterious 
appearance  in  the  tent  of  the  Mohawk's  widow 
would  be  construed  by  her  into  spiritual  agency ; 
and  her  heart  was  strengthened  by  this  hope. 
Yet  just  now  there  seems  little  reason  to  en- 
courage hope:  the  war-whoop  is  given,  the  war- 
dance  is  begun — first  slow,  and  grave,  and  mea- 
sured ;  now  louder  and  quicker,  and  more  wild 
become  both  sound  and  movement.  But  why 
is  it  hushed  again?  See,  a  strange  canoe  ap- 
pears on  the  river ;  anon  an  old  weather-beaten 
man,  with  firm  step,  appears  on  the  greensward 
and  approaches  the  area  of  the  lodge. 

The  Bald  Eagle  greets  him  with  friendly 
courtesy  ;  tlie  dance  and  death-song  are  hushed  ; 
ii  treaty  is  begun.  It  is  for  the  deliverance  of 
the  captivts.     The  chief  points  to  Catharine — ■ 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOES. 


838 


n  of  life  to 
saw  not  the 
le  regarded 
sunk  down 
nd  burying 
id  prayed — 
to  her  heart 
eemed  dark- 
lie  from  her 
it   Medicine 
have  great 
spirits,  both 
mysterious 
wk's  widow 
ual  agency ; 
this  hope, 
son  to  en- 
n,  the  war- 
e,  and  mea- 
more  wild 
But  why 
canoe  ap- 
iher-beaten 
reensward 

Ih  friendly 

[C  hushed  ; 

^erance  of 

itharine — 


she  is  free :  his  white  brother  may  take  her — » 
she  is  his.  But  the  Indian  law  of  justice  must 
take  its  course;  the  condemned,  who  raised  her 
hand  against  an  Ojebwa  chief,  must  die.  In  vain 
were  the  tempting  stores  of  scarlet  cloth  and 
beads  for  the  women,  with  powder  and  shot, 
laid  before  the  chief:  the  arrows  of  six  warriors 
were  fitted  to  the  string,  and  again  the  dance 
and  song  commenced,  as  if,  like  the  roll  of  the 
drum  and  clangour  of  the  trumpet,  it  were 
necessary  to  the  excitement  of  strong  and  pow- 
erful feelings,  and  the  suppression  of  all  ten- 
derer emotions. 

And  now  a  wild  and  solemn  voice  was  heard, 
unearthly  in  its  tones,  rising  above  the  yells  of 
those  savage  men.  At  that  sound  every  cheek 
became  pale :  it  struck  upon  the  ear  as  some 
funeral  wail.  Was  it  the  death-song  of  the 
captive  girl  bound  to  that  fearful  stake  ?  No  ; 
for  she  stands  unmoved,  with  eyes  raised  heav- 
enward, and  lips  apart — 

"  In  still,  but  brave  despair." 

Shrouded  in  a  mantle  of  dark  cloth,  her  long 
black  hair  unbound  and  streaming  over  her 
shoulders,  appears  the  Mohawk  widow,  the 
daughter  of  the  Ojebwa  chief.  The  gathering 
throng  fall  back  as  she  approaches,  awed  by  hei 
eudden  appearance  among  them.     She  stretchea 


384 


THE   CAXALIAX   CHUSOES. 


m 


out  a  hand  on  which  dark  stains  are  visible — it 
is  the  blood  of  her  husband,  sacrificed  by  her  on 
that  day  of  fearful  deeds:  it  has  never  been 
effaced.  In  the  name  of  the  Great  Spirit  she 
claims  the  captive  girl — the  last  of  that  devoted 
tribe — to  be  delivered  over  to  her  will.  Her 
right  to  this  remnant  of  her  murdered  husband's 
family  is  acknowledged.  A  knife  is  placed  in 
her  hand,  while  a  deafening  yell  of  triumph 
bursts  from  the  excited  squaws,  as  this  their  great 
high-priestess,  as  they  deemed  her,  advanced  to 
the  criminal.  But  it  was  not  to  shed  the  heart's 
blood  of  the  Mohawk  girl,  but  to  sever  the 
thongs  that  bound  her  to  the  deadly  stake,  for 
which  that  glittering  blade  was  drawn,  and  to 
bid  her  depart  in  peace  whithersoever  she 
would  go. 

Then,  turning  to  the  Bald  Eagle,  she  thus 
addressed  him :  "  At  the  dead  of  night,  when 
the  path  of  light  spanned  the  sky,  a  vision 
stood  before  mine  eyes.  It  came  from  the 
Great  and  Good  Spirit,  and  bade  me  to  set  free 
the  last  of  a  murdered  race  whose  sun  had  gone 
down  in  blood  shed  by  iny  hand  and  by  the 
hands  of  my  people.  The  vision  told  me  that 
if  I  did  this  my  path  should  henceforth  be  peace, 
and  that  I  should  go  to  the  better  land  and  be 
at  rest  if  I  did  this  good  deed."     She  then  laid 


ss. 

re  visible— it 
3ed  by  her  on 
5  never  been 
at  Spirit  she 
that  devoted 
ir  will.     Her 
ed  husband's 
is  placed  in 
of  triumph 
is  their  great 
advanced  to 
d  the  heart's 
0  sever   the 
J  stake,  for 
awn,  and  to 
'soever   she 


THE   CAXADIAX   CRUSOES.  335 

ber  hands  on  the  head  of  the  young  Mohawk, 
blessed  her,  and  enveloping  herself  in  the  dark 
mantle,  slowly  retired  back  to  her  solitary  tent 
once  more. 


e,  she  thus 
light,  when 
7,  a  vision 
5  from   the 
5  to  set  free 
n  had  gone 
and  by  the 
Id  me  that 
h  be  peace, 
md  and  be 
}  then  laid 


7 


886 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


CHAPTER    XYI. 

"Hame,  hame,  hume, 
Hame  I  soon  shall  be ; 
Hame,  hame,  hame. 
In  mine  own  countrie." — Scotch  Ballad. 


/^LD  Jacob  and  Catharine,  who  had  been 
^^  mute  spectators  of  the  scene  so  full  of  in 
terest  to  them,  now  presented  themselves  before 
the  Ojebwa  chief,  and  besought  leave  to  depart. 
The  presents  were  again  laid  before  him,  and 
this  time  were  graciously  accepted.  Catharine 
in  distributing  the  beads  and  cloth  took  care 
that  the  best  portion  should  fall  to  the  grand- 
daughter of  the  chief,  the  pretty  good-humoured 
Snow-bird.  The  old  man  was  not  insensible  to 
the  noble  sacrifice  which  had  been  made  by  the 
devoted  Indiana,  and  he  signified  his  forgive- 
ness of  her  fault  by  graciously  offering  to  adopt 
her  as  his  child,  and  to  give  her  in  marriage  to 
one  of  his  grandsons,  an  elder  brother  of  the 
Snow-bird  ;  but  the  young  girl  modestly  but 
firmly  refused  this  mark  of  favour,  for  her  heart 
yearned  for  those  whose  kindness  had  saved 
her  from  death,  and  who  had  taught  her  to  look 
beyond  the  things  of  this  world  to  a  brighter 


'otch  Ballad. 

o  had  been 
10  full  of  in 
selves  before 
ve  to  depart. 
>re  him,  and 
Catharine 
took  care 
:)  the  grand- 
i-humoured 
sensible  to 
ade  by  the 
is  forgive- 
g  to  adopt 
aarriage  to 
iher  of  the 
destly  but 
Ir  her  heart 
had  saved 
her  to  look 
a  brighter 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


337 


and  a  better  state  of  being.  She  said,  "  She 
would  go  with  her  white  sister,  and  pray  to 
God  to  bless  her  enemies,  as  the  Great  Spirit 
had  taught  her  to  do." 

It  seems  a  lingering  principle  of  good  in 
human  nature,  that  the  exercise  of  mercy  and 
virtue  opens  the  heart  to  the  enjoyment  of 
social  happiness.  The  Indians,  no  longer  worked 
up  by  excitement  to  deeds  of  violence,  seemed 
disposed  to  bury  the  hatchet  of  hatred,  and  the 
lodge  was  now  filled  with  mirth,  and  the  voice 
of  gladness,  feasting,  and  dancing.  A  covenant 
of  peace  and  goofl-vvill  was  entered  upon  by  old 
Jacob  and  the  chief,  who  bade  Catharine  tell 
iier  brothers  that  from  henceforth  they  should 
6e  free  to  hunt  the  deer,  fish,  or  shoot  the  wild 
fowl  of  the  lake,  whenever  they  desired  to  do 
60,  "  he  the  Bald  Eagle  had  said  so." 

On  the  morrow,  with  the  first  dawn  of  day, 
the  old  trapper  was  astir ;  the  canoe  was  ready, 
with  fresh  cedar  boughs  strewed  at  the  bottom. 
A  supply  of  parched  rice  and  dried  fish  had 
been  presented  by  the  Indian  chief  for  the 
voyage,  that  his  white  brother  and  the  young 
girls  might  not  suffer  from  want.  At  sunrise 
the  old  man  led  his  young  charges  to  the  lodge 
of  the  Bald  Eagle,  who  took  a  kindly  farewell 
of  tbem.  ''  The  Snow-bird"  was  sorrowful,  and 
Ijer  bright  laughing  eyes  were  dimmed  with 
29 


338 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


r.\ 


tears  at  parting  with  Catharine  ;  she  was  a 
gentle  loving  thing,  as  soft  and  playful  as  the 
tame  fawn  that  nestled  its  velvet  head  against 
her  arm.  She  did  not  let  Catharine  depart 
without  manv  tokens  of  her  regjard,  the  work 
of  her  own  hands, — bracelets  of  porcupine  quills 
cut  in  line  pieces  and  strung  in  fanciful  patterns,* 
mocassins  richly  wrought,  and  tiny  bark  dishes 
and  boxes,  such  as  might  have  graced  a  lady's 
work-table,  so  rare  was  their  workmanship. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  step  into  the 
canoe,  "  the  Snow-bird"  reappeared,  bearing  a 
richl}''  worked  bark  box,  "  From  the  Great 
Medicine,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "to  the 
daughter  of  the  Mohawk  brave."  The  box  con- 
tained a  fine  tunic,  soft  as  a  lady's  glove,  em- 
broidered and  fringed,  and  a  fillet  of  scarlet  and 
blue  feathers,  with  the  wings  and  breast  of  the 
war-bird,  as  shoulder  ornaments.  It  was  a 
token  of  reconciliation  and  good-will  worthy  of 
a  generous  heart. 

The  young  girl  pressed  the  gifts  to  her  bosom 
and  to  her  lips  reverentially,  and  the  hand  that 
brought  them  to  her  heart,  as  she  said  in  her 
native  tongue,  "  Tell  the  Great  Medicine  I  kiss 
her  in  my  heart,  and  pray  that  she  may  bars 
peace  and  joy  till  she  departs  for  the  spirit- 
land." 

*  Appendix  M. 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


339 


she  was  a 

lyfal  as  the 
head  against 
irine  depart 
rd,  the  work 
cupine  quills 
■ul  patterns,* 
bark  dishes 
aced  a  lady's 
nanship. 
tep   into  the 
id,  bearing  a 
a   the   Great 
pice,  "to  the 
he  box  con- 
s  glove,  em- 
)f  scarlet  and 
breast  of  the 
It  was   a 
11  worthy  of 

to  her  bosom 

le  hand  that 

said  in  her 

licine  I  kiss 

|e  may  har^ 

the  spirit- 


With  joyful  heart  they   bade   adieu  to  the 
[ndian  lodges,  and  rejoiced  in  being  once  more 


afloat  on    the  bosom  of  the 


great 


river. 


rn 


ro 


Catharine  the  events  of  the  past  hour  seemed 
like  a  stran<jje  bewilderimif  dream ;  she  lon^jf-ed 
for  the  quiet  repose  of  home ;  and  how  gladly 
did  she  listen  to  that  kind  old  man's  plans  for 
restoring  her  brothers  and  herself  to  the  arms 
of  their  beloved  parents.  How  often  did  she 
say  to  herself,  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove, 
for  then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest ! — in 
the  shelter  of  that  dear  mother's  arms  whom  she 
now  pined  for  with  a  painful  yearning  of  the 
heart,  that  might  well  be  called  home  sickness. 
But  in  spite  of  anxious  wishes,  the  little  party 
were  compelled  to  halt  for  the  night  some  few 
miles  above  the  lake.  There  is  on  the  eastern 
bank  of  the  Otonabee,  a  pretty  rounded  knoll, 
clothed  with  wild  cherries,  hawthorns,  and  pine- 
trees,  just  where  a  creek  half  hidden  by  alder 
and  cranberry  bushes,  works  its  way  below  the 
shoulder  of  the  little  eminence  ;  this  creek  grows 
broader  and  becomes  a  little  stream,  through 
which  the  hunters  sometimes  paddle  their  canoes, 
as  a  short  cut  to  the  lower  part  of  the  lake  near 
Crook's  Rapids. 

To  this  creek  old  Jacob  steered  his  light  craft, 
and  bidding  the  girls  collect  a  few  dry  sticKs  and 
branches  for  an  evening  fire  on  the  sheltered 


840 


THE   CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


! 


side  of  the  little  bank,  he  soon  lighted  the  pile 
into  a  cheerful  blaze  by  the  aid  of  birch  bark, 
^he  liLinter's  tinder — a  sort  of  fungus  that  is 
found  in  the  rotten  oak  and  maple-trees — and  a 
knife  and  flint ;  he  then  lifted  the  canoe,  and 
having  raised  it  on  its  side,  by  means  of  two 
small  stakes  which  he  cut  from  a  bush  hard  by, 
then  spread  down  his  buffalo  robe  on  the  dry 
grass.  "There  is  a  tent  fit  for  a  queen  to  sleep 
under,  mes  chores  filles,''  he  said,  eyeing  his 
arrangements  for  their  night  shelter  with  great 
satisfaction. 

He  then  proceeded  to  bait  his  line,  and  in  a 
few' minutes  had  a  dish  of  splendid  bass  ready 
for  the  coals.  Catharine  selected  a  large  flat 
block  of  limestone  on  which  the  fish  when 
broiled  was  laid ;  but  old  Jacob  opened  his  wide 
mouth  and  laughed  when  she  proceeded  to  lay 
her  bush  table  with  large  bass  wood  leaves  for 
platters.  Such  nicety  he  professed  was  unusual 
on  a  hunter's  table.  He  was  too  old  a  forester 
to  care  how  his  food  was  dished,  so  that  he  had 
"wherewithal  to  satisfy  his  hunger. 

Many  were  the  merry  tales  he  told  and  the 
songs  he  sung,  to  wile  away  the  time,  till  the 
daylight  Med  from  the  sky,  and  the  deep  blue 
heavens  were  studded  with  bright  stars,  which 
were  mirrored  in  countless  hosts  deep,  deep  down 
in  that  calm,  waveless  river,  while  thousands  of 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


341 


id  the  pile 
ircli  bark, 
JUS  that  is 
3es — and  a 
canoe,  and 
ms  of  two 
h  hard  by, 
DO  the  dry 
en  to  sleep 
eyeing  his 
with  great 

3,  and  in  a 
bass  ready 

large  flat 
ish  when 
d  his  wide 
ded  to  lay 

eaves  for 
as  unusual 

a  forester 
lat  he  had 

and  the 
le,  till  the 
deep  blue 
ars,  which 
ieep  down 
usands  of 


fireflie-  lighted  up  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
forest's  gloom,  lligh  in  the  upper  air  the  hollow 
booming  of  the  night-hawk  was  hoard  at  inter- 
vals, and  the  wild  cry  of  the  night-owl  from  a 
dead  branch,  shouting  to  its  lellow,  woke  the 
silence  of  that  lonely  river  scene. 

The  old  trapper,  stretched  before  the  crackling 
fire,  smoked  his  pi})c  or  hummed  some  P'rcnch 
voyageur's  song.  Beneath  the  shelter  of  the 
canoe  soundly  slept  the  two  girls;  the  dark 
cheek  of  the  Indian  girl  pillowed  on  the  arm  of 
her  fairer  companion,  her  thick  tresses  of  raven 
hair  minojling  with  the  silken  rini^rlets  of  the 
white  maiden.  They  were  a  lovely  pair — one 
fair  as  morning,  the  other  dark  as  night. 

How  lightly  did  they  spring  from  their  low 
bed,  awakened  by  the  early  song  of  the  forest 
birds!  The  light  curling  mist  hung  in  fleecy 
volumes  upon  the  river,  like  a  flock  of  sheep  at 
rest — the  tinkling  sound  of  the  heavy  dew-drops 
fell  in  mimic  showers  upon  the  stream.  See 
that  red  squirrel,  how  lightly  he  runs  along  that 
fallen  trunk — how  furtively  he  glances  with 
his  sharp  bright  eye  at  the  intruders  on  his 
Bylvan  haunts!  Hark!  there  is  a  rustling 
among  the  leaves — what  strange  creature  works 
its  way  to  the  shore  ?  A  mud-turtle — it  turns, 
and  now  is  trotting  along  the  little  sandy  ridge 

to  some  sunny  spot,  where,  balf  buried,  it  may 
29^ 


■  / 


542 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOKS. 


4 

•I 


) 


lie  unseen  near  the  edge  of  thcrivcT.  See  that 
musk-rat,  how  boldly  he  plunges  into  the  strcann, 
and,  with  his  oardiko  tail,  sterns  the  current 
till  he  gains  in  safety  the  sedges  on  the  other 
side. 

What  gurgling  sound  is  that? — it  attracts  the 
practised  ear  of  the  old  hunter.  What  is  that 
object  which  floats  so  steadily  down  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  and  leaves  so  bright  a  line  in  its 
wake? — it  is  a  noble  stag.  Look  at  the  broad 
chest  with  which  he  breasts  the  water  so  gal- 
lantly; see  how  proudly  he  carries  his  antlered 
head;  he  has  no  fear  in  those  lonely  solitudes — 
he  has  never  heard  the  crack  of  the  hunter's 
rifle — he  heeds  not  the  sharp  twang  of  that  bow- 
string, till  the  arrow  rankles  in  his  neck,  and 
the  crimson  flood  dyes  the  water  around  him — 
he  turns,  but  it  is  only  to  present  a  surer  mark 
for  the  arrow  of  the  old  hunter's  bow  ;  and  now 
the  noble  beast  turns  to  bay,  and  the  canoe  is 
ra})idly  launched  by  the  hand  of  the  Indian  girl 
— her  eye  flashes  with  the  excitement — her 
whole  soul  is  in  the  chase — she  stimds  up  in  the 
canoe,  and  steers  it  full  upon  the  wounded  buck, 
while  a  shower  of  blows  are  dealt  upon  his  head 
and  neck  with  the  paddle.  Catharine  buries  her 
face  in  her  hands — she  cannot  bear  to  look  upon 
the  sufferings  of  the  noble  animal.  She  will 
never  make  a  huntress — her  heart  is  cast  i^  too 


THE   CANADIAN'   CKUSOEjA. 


;^43 


See  that 

he  stream, 

le   current 

the  other 

tttraets  the 
hat  is  that 
:he  iniddle 
I  Hne  in  its 
the  broad 
tor  so  gal- 
lis  antlered 
solitudes — 
lie  hunter's 
f  that  bow- 
neck,  and 
und  him — 
arer  mark 
and  now 
e  canoe  is 
ndian  girl 
ment — her 
|s  up  in  the 
ded  buck, 
n  his  head 
buries  iier 
look  upon 
She  will 
cast  ia  too 


eoft  a  mould.  See  I  thcv  have  towed  the  deer 
ashore,  and  Jacob  is  in  all  his  glory, — the  little 
Bquaw  is  an  Indian  at  heart — see  with  what  ex- 
pertncss  she  helps  the  old  man  ;  and  now  the 
great  business  is  completed,  and  the  venison  is 
stowed  away  at  the  bottom  of  the  canoe — they 
wash  their  hands  in  the  river  and  come  at 
Catharine's  summons  to  eat  her  breakfast. 

The  sun  is  now  rising  high  above  the  pine- 
trees,  the  tnorning  mist  is  also  rising  and  roll- 
ing off  like  a  golden  veil  as  it  catches  those 
glorious  rays — the  whole  earth  seems  awaken- 
ing into  new  life — the  dew  has  brightened  every 
leaf  and  washed  each  tiny  flower-cup — the  pines 
and  balsams  give  out  their  resinous  fragrance 
— the  aspens  flutter  and  dance  in  the  morning 
breeze  and  return  a  mimic  shower  of  dew- 
drops  to  the  stream — the  shores  become  lower 
and  flatter — the  tree^  less  lofty  and  more  mossy 
— the  stream  expands  and  wide  beds  of  rushes 
spread  out  on  either  side — what  beds  of  snowy 
water-lilies — hows  plendid  the  rose  tint  of  those 
perseicarias  that  glow  so  brightly  in  the  morn- 
ing sun — the  rushes  look  like  a  green  mea- 
dow, but  the  treacherous  water  lies  deep  be- 
low their  grassy  leaves — the  deer  delights  in 
these  verdant  aquatic  fields,  and  see  what  flocks 
of  red-wings  rise  from  among  them  as  the  caDoe 


844 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


1 

1 


1 

J 

! 


passes  near — their  bright  shoulder-knots  glance 
like  flashes  of  lightning  in  the  sunbeams. 

This  low  swanjuy  island,  filled  with  drift- 
wood, these  grey  hoary  trees,  half  choked  and 
killed  with  grey  nu-.ss  and  lichens — those  strag- 
gling alders  and  black  ash  look  melancholy-— 
they  are  like  premature  old  age,  grey-headed 
youths.  That  island  divides  the  channel  of 
the  river — the  old  man  takes  the  nearest,  the 
left  hand,  and  now  they  are  upon  the  broad 
Rice  Lake,  and  Catharine  wearies  her  eye  to 
catch  the  smoke  of  the  shanty  rising  among 
the  trees — one  after  another  the  islands  steal 
out  into  view — the  capes,  and  bays,  and  shores 
of  the  northern  side  are  growing  less  distinct. 
Yon  hollow  bay,  where  the  beaver  has  hidden 
till  now,  backed  by  that  bold  sweep  of  hills 
that  look  in  the  distance  as  if  only  covered 
with  green  ferns,  with  here  and  there  a  tall  tree, 
stately  as  a  pine  or  oak — that  is  the  spot  where 
Louis  saw  the  landing  of  the  Indians — now  a 
rising  village — Gore's  Landing.  On  yon  lofty 
hill  now  stands  the  village  church ;  its  white 
tower  rising  amongst  the  trees  forms  a  charm- 
ing object  from  the  lake ;  and  there,  a  little 
higher  up,  not  far  from  the  plank  road,  now 
Btand  pretty  rural  cottages — one  of  these  be- 
longs to  the  spirited  proprietor  of  the  village 
|hat   bears   his    name.     That  tasteful    garden 


:s. 

-knots  glanc-a 
beams. 
1  with    drift- 
'  choked  and 
—those  Strug- 
fnelancholy-- 
grey-headed 
e  channel  of 
}  nearest,  the 
on  the  broad 
33  her  eye  to 
rising  among 
islands  steal 
s,  and  shores 
;  less  distinct, 
er  has  hidden 
,veep  of   hills 
only  covered 
3  re  a  tall  tree, 
le  spot  where 
iians — now  a 
n  yon  lofty 
jh ;  its  white 
Irms  a  charm- 
here,  a  little 
|k  road,  now 
of  these  be- 
the  village 
;eful    garden 


THE   CAN* A DI AN'    C HUSOES. 


845 


before  the  white  cottage,  to  the  riglit,  is  Colonel. 
Brown's,  and  there  are   pretty  farms  and  cul- 
tivated spots;  but  sikMice  and  K>iielinoss  reigned 
there  at  the  time  of  \vhi(;h  I  write. 

Where  those  few  (hiik  piiu'S  rise  above  the 
oak  groves  like  the  spires  of  churches  in  a 
crowded  city,  is  Mount  Ararat.*  'riie  Fndian 
girls  steers  straight  between  the  ishuuls  tor  that 
ark  of  refuge,  and  Catharine's  eyes  are  dimmed 
with  grateful  tears  as  she  pictures  to  iierself 
the  joyful  greeting  in  store  for  iier.  In  the 
overflowings  of  her  gladness  she  seizes  the  old 
man's  rugged  hand  and  kisses  it,  and  flings  her 
arms  about  the  Indian  girl  and  presses  her  to 
her  heart,  when  the  canoe  has  touched  the  old 
well-remembered  landing-place,  and  she  finds 
herself  so  near,  so  very  near  her  lost  home. 
How  precious  are  such  moments — how  few  we 
have  in  life — they  are  created  from  our  very 
sorrows — without  our  cares  our  joys  would  be 
less  lively ;  but  we  have  no  time  to  moralize. 
Catharine  flies  with  the  speed  of  a  young  fawn, 
to  climb  the  steep  cliff-like  shoulder  of  that 
steep  bank,  and  now,  out  of  breath,  stands  at 
the  threshold  of  her  log-house — how  neat  and 
nice  it  looks  compared  with  the  Indians'  tents 
— the  little  field  of  corn  is  green  and  flourish- 
ing— there  is  Hector's  axe  in  a  newly-cut  log 

*  Appendix  N. 


846 


THE   CANADIAN    CliUSOES. 


ii 


— it  is  nigli  noon — the  boys  ought  to  have 
been  there  taking  their  mid-day  meal,  but  the 
door  is  shut.  Catharine  lifts  the  wooden  latch, 
and  steps  in — the  embers  are  nearly  burned  out 
to  a  handful  of  grey  ashes — old  Wolfe  is  not 
there — all  is  silent — and  Catharine  sits  down  to 
still  the  beating  of  her  heart  and  await  the 
coming  up  of  her  slower  companions,  and  glad- 
dens her  mind  with  the  hope  that  her  brother 
and  Louis  will  soon  be  home — her  eye  wanders 
over  every  old  familiar  object — all  things  seem 
much  as  she  had  left  them,  only  the  maize  is  in 
the  ear  and  the  top  feather  waves  gracefully 
with  the  summer  breeze — it  promises  an  abun- 
dant crop ;  but  that  harvest  is  not  to  be  gathered 
by  the  hands  of  the  young  planters — it  was 
left  to  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of 
the  field — to  those  humble  reapers  who  sow 
not,  neither  do  they  gather  into  barns,  for 
their  heavenl}^  Father  feedeth  them.  While 
the  two  girls  busied  themselves  in  preparing  a 
fine  roast  of  venison,  old  Jacob  stalked  away 
over  the  hills  to  search  for  the  boys,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  he  returned  with  Hector  and 
Louis. 

I  must  not  tell  tales,  or  1  might  say  what 
tears  of  joy  were  mingled  with  the  rapturous 
greetings  ivitb  which  Louis  embraced  his  be- 
loved cousin ;  or  1   might  tell  that  the  bright 


:s. 

^ht   to   have 

neal,  but  the 

i^ooden  latch, 

Y  burned  out 

^Volfe  is  not 

sits  down  to 

id  await  the 

ns,  and  glad- 

:  her  brother 

eye  wanders 

I  things  seem 

le  maize  is  in 

es  gracefully 

ises  an  abun- 

)  be  gathered 

iters — it  was 

le  beasts  of 

rs  who  sow 

barns,  for 

em.     While 

preparing  a 

alked  away 

and  it  was 

Hector  and 

it  say  what 
e  rapturous 
iced  his  be- 
the  bright 


THE   CANADIAN   CRLTSOES. 


34; 


flush  that  warmed  the  duskv  cheek  of  the  vounoj 
Indian,  and  the  light  that  danced  in  her  soft 
black  eyes,  owed  its  origin  to  the  kiss  that  was 
pressed  on  her  red  lips  by  her  white  brother. 
Nor  will  we  sav  whose  hand  held  hers  so  Ions: 
in  his  while  Catharine  related  the  noble  sacri- 
fice made  for  her  sake,  and  the  perils  encoun- 
tered by  the  devoted  Indiana — whose  eyes  were 
moistened  w  ith  the  tears  as  tho  horrors  of  that 
feai'ful  trial  were  described — or  who  stole  out 
alone  over  the  hills,  and  sat  him  down  in  the 
hush  and  silence  of  the  summer  night  to  think 
of  the  acts  of  heroism  displayed  by  that  un- 
taught Indian  girl,  and  to  dream  a  dreann  of 
youthful  love ;  but  with  these  things,  my  young 
readers,  we  have  nothing  to  do. 

"  And  now,  my  children,"  said  old  Jacob, 
lookini^  round  the  little  dwellini]^,  "  have  vou 
made  up  your  minds  to  live  and  die  here  on 
the  shores  of  this  lake,  or  do  you  desire  again 
to  behold  your  father's  home  ?  Do  your  young 
hearts  yearn  after  the  hearth  of  your  child- 
hood ?" 

''  After  our  fathers'  home!"  was  Louis's  em- 
phatic reply.  *'  After  the  home  of  our  child- 
duotl !"  was  Catharine's  earnest  answer.  Hector's 
lips  echoed  his  sister's  words,  while  a  furtive 
ii'oubled  glance  fell  upon  the  orphan  stranger; 
out  her  timid  eye  was  raised  to  his  young  face 


848 


THE   CANADIAN   CKUSOES. 


'JIP! 


,1  11!  if] 


with  a  trusting  look,  as  she  wouUi  have  said, 
"  Thy  home  shall  be  my  home,  thy  God  my 
God." 

"  Well,  mon  ami,  I  believe,  if  my  old  mem- 
ory fails  me  not,  I  can  strike  the  Indian  trail 
that  used  to  lead  to  the  Cold  Springs  over  the 
pine  hills.  It  will  not  be  difficult  for  an  old 
trapper  to  find  his  way." 

"For  my  part,  I  shall  not  leave  this  lovelv 
spot  without  regret,"  said  Hector.  "  It  would 
be  a  glorious  place  for  a  settlement — all  that 
one  could  desire — hill,  and  valley,  and  plain, 
wood  and  water.  Well,  I  will  try  and  persuade 
my  father  to  leave  the  Cold  Springs,  and  come 
and  settle  hereabouts.  It  would  be  delightful, 
would  it  not,  Catharine?  esp'  oially  now  we  are 
friends  with  the  Indians." 

With  their  heads  full  of  pleasant  schemes  for 
the  future,  our  young  folks  laid  them  down  that 
night  to  rest.  In  the  morning  they  rose,  packed 
up  such  portable  articles  as  they  could  manage 
to  carry,  and  with  full  hearts  sat  down  to  take 
their  last  meal  in  their  home — in  that  home 
which  had  sheltered  them  so  long — and  then, 
with  one  accord,  they  knelt  down  upon  its 
hearth,  so  soon  to  be  left  in  loneliness,  and 
breathed  a  prayer  to  Him  who  had  preserved 
them  thus  far  in  their  eventful  lives,  and  then 
they  journeyed  forth  once  more  into  the  wilder* 


ES. 

• 
THE  CANADIAN  ORUSOES.                 349 

Id  have  said, 

ness.     There  was  one,  however,  of  their  little 

thy  God  my 

band  they  left  behind:  this  was  the  faithful  old 

dog  Wolfe.     He  had  pined  during  tl.f  absence 

my  old  mem- 

of  his   mistress,  and   only  a  few  days  before 

e  Indian  trail 

Catharine's  return  he  had  crept  to  the  seat  she 

rings  over  the 

was  wont  to  occupy,  and  there  died.    Louis  and 

lit  for  an  old 

Hector  buried   him,  not  without  great  regret, 

beneath  the  group  of  birch-trees  on  the  brow  of 

^G  this  lovelv 

the  slope  near  the  corn-field. 

\     "  It  would 

30                                                                    . 

nent — all  that 

» 

;y,  and  plain, 
and  persuade 

igs,  and  come 
be  delightful, 

y  now  we  are 

t  schemes  for 
[em  down  that 
rose,  packed 
lould  manage 
.own  to  take 
In  that  home 
-and  then, 
n  upon  its 
eliness,  and 
d  preserved 
'•es,  and  then 
the  wilder* 


■>■}}  ''\'4 


350 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOKS. 


& 

i 

■  ft 

e 

;  1 

^ 

^ 

1'^ 

'i 

1 

) 


CHAPTEK   XVII. 

"  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father." — New  Testament. 

IT  is  the  hour  of  sunset ;  the  sonorous  sound 
of  the  cattle  bells  is  heard,  as  they  slowly 
emerge  from  the  steep  hill  path  that  leads  to 
Maxwell  and  Louis  Perron's  little  clearing; 
the  dark  shadows  are  lengthening  that  those 
wood-crowned  hills  cast  over  that  sunny  spot, 
an  oasis  in  the  vast  forest  desert  that  man,  ad- 
venturous, courageous  man,  has  hewed  for 
himself  in  the  wilderness.  The  little  flock  are 
feeding  among  the  blackened  stumps  of  the 
uncleared  chopping ;  those  timbers  have  ^ain 
thus  untouched  for  two  long  years ;  the  hand 
was  wanting  that  should  have  given  help  in 
logging  and  burning  them  up.  The  wheat  is 
ripe  for  the  sickle,  and  the  silken  beard  of  the 
corn  is  waving  like  a  fair  girl's  tresses  in  the 
evening  breeze.  The  tinkling  fall  of  the  cold 
spring  in  yonder  bank  falls  soothingly  on  the 
ear..  Who  comes  from  that  low-roofed  log  cabin 
to  bring  in  the  pitcher  of  water,  that  pale,  care- 
worn, shadowy  figure  that  slowly  moves  along 
the  green  pasture,  as  one  without  hope  or  joy; 
her  black  hair  is  shared  with  silver,  her  cheek 


)KS, 


I. 

^ew  Testament. 

onorous  sound 

as  they  slowly 

L  that  leads  to 

ittle   clearing; 

ing  that  those 

at  sunny  spot, 

that  man,  ad- 

as   hewed    for 

little  flock  are 

tumps  of  the 

lers  have   lain 

Ts;  the  hand 

iven  help  in 

The  wheat  is 

beard  of  the 

tresses  in  the 

,11  of  the  cold 

iingly  on  the 

fed  log  cabin 

at  pale,  care- 

Imoves  along 

I  hope  or  joy ; 

jr,  her  cheek 


THE  CANADIAN  CRUSOES. 


351 


is  pale  as  wax,  and  her  hand  is  so  thin,  it  looks 
as  though  the  light  might  be  seen  through,  if 
she  held  it  towards  the  sun?  It  is  the  heart- 
broken mother  of  Catharine  and  Hector  Max 
well.  Her  heart  has  been  pierced  with  man> 
sorrows;  she  cannot  yet  forget  the  children  o* 
her  love,  her  first-born  girl  and  boy.  AVhj 
comes  to  meet  her,  and  with  cheerful  voicr"! 
chides  her  for  the  tear  that  seems  ever  to  ho 
lingering  on  that  pale  cheek, — ^yet  the  prema- 
ture furrows  on  that  broad,  sunburnt,  manly 
brow  speak,  too,  of  inward  care?  It  is  the 
father  of  Hector  and  Catharine.  Those  two 
fine,  healthy  boys,  in  homespun  blouses,  that 
are  talking  so  earnestly,  as  they  lean  across  the 
rail  fence  of  the  little  wheat-field,  are  Kenneth 
and  Donald ;  their  sickles  are  on  their  arms ; 
they  have  been  reaping.  They  hear  the  sudden 
barking  of  Bruce  and  Wallace,  the  hounds,  and 
turn  to  see  what  causes  the  agitation  they  dis- 
play. 

An  old  man  draws  near;  h?  has  a  knapsack 
on  his  shoulders,  which  he  casts  down  on  the 
corner  of  the  stoup ;  he  is  singing  a  line  of  an 
old  French  ditty ;  he  raps  at  the  open  door.  Tho 
Highlander  bids  him  welcome,  but  starts  with 
glad  surprise  as  his  hand  is  grasped  by  the  old 
trapper. 

"  Ha,  Jacob  Morelle,  it  is  many  a  weary  year 


352 


THE   CANADIAN    CRUSOES. 


•I 


V 


111 


since  your  step  turned  this  way."  The  tear 
stood  in  the  eye  of  the  soldier  as  he  spoke. 

"  How  is  ma  chore  mc^re,  and  the  young  ones?" 
asked  the  old  man,  in  a  husky  voice — his  kind 
heart  was  full.  "  Can  you  receive  me,  and  those 
I  have  with  me,  for  the  night?  A  spare  corner, 
a  shake-down,  will  do;  we  travellers  in  the  bush 
are  nowise  nice."  ' 

"  The  best  we  have,  and  kindly  welcome ;  it  is 
gude  for  saer  een  to  see  you,  Jacob.  How  many 
are  ye  in  all  ?" 

"There  are  just  four,  besides  myself, — young 
people ;  I  found  them  where  they  had  been  long 
living,  on  a  lonely  lake,  and  I  persuaded  them 
to  come  with  me." 

The  strong  features  of  the  Highlander  worked 
convulsively  as  he  drew  his  faded  blue  bonnet 
over  his  eyes.  "  Jacob,  did  ye  ken  that  we  lost 
our  eldest  bairns,  some  three  summers  since  ?" 
he  faltered,  in  a  broken  voice. 

"  The  Lord  in  his  mercy  has  restored  them 
to  you,  Donald,  by  my  hand,"  said  the  trapper. 

"Let  me  see,  let  me  see  my  children.  To 
him  be  the  praise  and  the  glory,"  ejaculated  the 
pious  father,  raising  his  bonnet  reverently  from 
his  head;  "and  holy  and  blessed  be  his  name 
for  ever.  I  thought  not  to  have  seen  this  day. 
Oh !  Catharine,  my  dear  wife,  this  joy  will  kill 
y6u." 


In  a  .noment  hi,  duldron  weir  <.nf„l ,   7  ■ 
nis  arms.     It  is  n  ,„{.,  1        . ,  <^nfolded  in 

"15ut  whei-e  is  Louis  dpo^  T„  • 
where  is  l,e  ?"  '      "'  ^■'°"'«'  o-^''"  nephevv, 

Louis,  wiiose   impetuosity  was  not  . .  K 

."":;  r.tT^rr'"*  .xt:: 
and  wept  hi;,t;'i::ttr:r;;;r^''^-"f-- 

and    sisters    bv    tnrn«    ^^  ^'^''' '^^'^^^^^'^ 

■-f-dtheirSt^Slrlfr';''^^ 

to  their  fixthtir.  ^"'^  Catharine 

fence,  l,cr  f.ee  b  "t  sT  V  ''"""^  ''^  "'«  ^"8 
a  veil,"  asked  the  rr;  i  1     j     ,   Matures  as  with 

Indian   ,^r      fe       '--'gnUion,  sat  the  poor 

to'"-      liiere   was  no  ivifPr.,oi         i 
f'"-  her,   MO  tender  mother',  k  ""'"'"'■'' 

Ihat  dusky  cheek  and  1  ""''""'^•'  "" 

^^,      .V  Uiu,k  and  pensive  brow- -she  waa 


'o' 


!!',  i    . 


»«.. 


854 


THE   CANADIAN   CRUSOES. 


alone  and  desolate,  in  the  midst  of  that  scene  of 
gladness. 

"  It  is  my  Indian  sister,"  said  Catharine, 
"  she  also  must  be  your  child ;"  and  Hector 
iurried  to  Indiana  and  half  leadiilg,  half  carry- 
ing the  reluctant  girl,  brought  her  to  his  parents 
and  bade  them  to  bg  kind  to  and  cherish  the 
young  stranger,  to  whom  they  all  owed  so 
much. 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  universal  joy  that 
filled  that  humble  dwelling,  or  tell  the  delight  of 
Kenneth  and  Donald  at  the  return  of  their  lost 
brother  and  sister,  for  my  story  hurries  to  a  close. 

Time  passes  on — years,  long  years  have  gone 
by  since  the  return  of  the  lost  children  to  their 
homes,  and  many  changes  have  those  years 
effected.  The  log-houses  have  fallen  to  decay — 
a  growth  of  young  pines,  a  waste  of  emerald 
turf  with  the  charred  logs  that  once  formed 
part  of  the  enclosure,  now,  hardly  serve  to  mark 
out  the  old  settlement — no  trace  or  record  re- 
mains of  the  fi^-st  breakers  of  the  bush,  another 
race  occupy  the  ground.  The  traveller  as  he 
passes  along  on  that  smooth  turnpike  road  that 
leads  from  Coburg  to  Cold  Springs,  and  from 
thence  to  Gore's  Landing,  may  notice  a  gr&.m 
waste  by  the  road-side  on  either  hand,  and 
fancy  that  thereabouts  our  Canadian  Crusoes' 
home  oncj  stood — he  sees  the  lofty  woud-crovviied 


iS. 

that  scene  of 

id  Ciitbarine, 
'  and  Hector 
[g,  half  carry- 
to  his  parents 
d  cherish  the 
all   owed   so 

/ersal  joy  that 
the  delight  of 
rn  of  their  lost 
irries  to  a  close. 
3ars  have  gone 
lildren  to  their 
e   those  years 
len  to  decay — 
,te  of  emerald 
once   formed 
serve  to  mark 
or  record  re- 
bush,  another 
[ravel ler  as  he 
»ike  road  tliat 
vTs,  and  from 
otice  a  greon 
|er   hand,  and 
idian   Crusoes' 
woud-crowiied 


THE   CAXADIAX  CRUSOES. 


855 


hill,  and  sees  in  spring-time,  for  in  summer  it  is 
hidden  by  the  luxuriant  foHage,  the  little  forest 
creek,  and  he  may,  if  thirsty,  taste  of  the  pure 
fresh  icy  water,  as  it  still  wells  out  from  a  spring 
in  the  steep  bank,  rippling  through  the  little 
cedar-trough  that  Louis  Perron  placed  there  for 
the  better  speed  of  his  mother  when  filling  .her 
water  jug.  All  else  is  gone.  And  what  wrought 
the  change? — a  few  words  will  sullice  to  tell. 
Some  travelling  fur  merchants  brought  the  news 
to  Donald  Maxwell,  that  a  party  of  Highlanders 
had  made  a  wsettlement  above  Montreal,  and 
among  them  were  some  of  his  kindred.  The  old 
soldier  resolved  to  join  them,  and  it  was  not 
hard  to  prevail  upon  his  brother-in-law  to 
accompany  him,  for  they  were  all  now  weary 
of  living  so  far  from  their  fellow-men;  and 
biddiniif  farewell  to  the  little  loijr-houses  at  Cold 

Springs,  they  now  journeyed  downwards  to  tlie 
new  settlement,  where  they  were  gladly  received, 
their  long  experience  of  the  country  making 
their  company  a  most  valuable  acquisition  to  the 
new  colonists. 

Not  long  after  the  Maxwells  took  possession 
of  a  grant  of  land,  and  cleared  and  built  for 
themselves  and  their  family.  That  year  Hector, 
now  a  fine  industrious  young  man,  pre:>ented  at 
the  ba|)tismal  font  as  a  candidate  for  baptism, 
the  Indian  girl,  and  then  received  at  the  altai 


856 


TUE   CANADIAN   CUUSOES. 


his  newly  baptized  bride.  As  to  Catharinft 
aud  Louis,  I  am  not  sufficiently  skilled  in  the 
laws  of  their  church  to  tell  how  the  difficulty 
of  nearness  of  kin  was  obviated,  but  they  were 
married  on  the  same  day  as  nect(;r  and  Indiana, 
and  lived  a  happy  and  prosperous  life;  and 
often  by  their  fireside  would  delight  their  chil- 
dren by  recounting  the  history  ol  their  wander- 
ings on  the  Rice  Lake  Plains. 


Nl: 


i 


s. 

:o  Catharines 
dlled  in  the 
}\Q  didiculty 
ut  they  were 
and  Indiana, 
as  life;  and 
;ht  their  chil- 
their  wander* 


APPENDIX. 


A. — Preface,    Page  9. 

Sarah  Campbell,  of  Windsor,  who  was  lost  in  the 
woods  on  the  11th  of  August,  1848,  returned  to  her 
home  on  the  31st,  having  been  absent  twenty-one 
days.  A  friend  has  sent  us  a  circumstantial  account 
of  her  wanderings,  of  the  efforts  made  in  her  behalf, 
and  her  return  home,  from  which  we  condense  the 
following  statements : — 

It  appears  that  on  the  11th  of  August,  in  company 
with  two  fiiends,  she  went  fishing  on  the  north  branch 
of  Windsor-brook  ;  and  that  on  attempting  to  return 
she  became  separated  from  her  companions,  who 
returned  to  her  mother's,  the  Widow  Campbell, 
expecting  to  find  her  at  home.  Several  of  her  neigh- 
bours searched  for  her  during  the  night,  without  success. 
The  search  was  continued  during  Sunday,  Monday, 
and  Tuesday,  by  some  fifty  or  sixty  individuals,  and 
although  her  tracks,  and  those  of  a  dog  which  accom- 
panied her,  were  discovered,  no  tidings  of  the  girl 
were  obtained.  A  general  sympathy  for  the  afflicted 
widow  and  her  lost  daughter  was  r^ACited,  and  not  with- 


858 


AI'PEXDIX. 


I 


1 

'I 
I 


\ 


'II* 


i". , 

km 


staiidinj?  the  Ixisy  scjison  of  tlio  year,  ^reat  nuinberj* 
from  Windsor  and  the  noigliboiirinn  townships  of 
yiompton,  Shipton,  Mclhonrnc,  Durluim,  Oxford, 
Sherl)rooke,  Lcnnoxvillc,  Stoke,  and  Dudswell,  turned 
out  with  provisions  and  implements  for  camping  in 
the  woods,  in  search  of  the  girj  whieh  was  kept  up 
without  intermission  for  ahout  fomleen  days,  when  it 
was  generally  given  up,  under  the  impression  that  she 
must  have  died,  cither  from  starvation,  or  the  in- 
clemency of  the  weather,  it  having  rained  almost  in- 
cessantly for  nearly  a  week  of  the  time.  On  the  81st 
her  brother  returned  home  from  Massachusetts,  and 
with  two  or  three  others  renewed  the  search,  but 
returned  the  second  day,  and  learned  to  their  grea^ 
joy  that  the  lost  one  had  found  her  way  home  the 
evening  previous. 

On  hearing  of  her  return,  our  correspondent  made 
a  visit  to  Widow  Campbell,  to  hear  from  her  daughter 
the  story  of  her  wanderings.  She  was  found,  as  might 
be  supposed,  in  a  very  weak  and  exhausted  condition, 
but  quite  rational,  as  it  seems  she  had  been  during 
the  whole  period  of  her  absence.  From  her  story  the 
following  particulars  were  gathered  : — 

When  first  lost  she  went  directly  from  home  down 
"  Open  Brooke,"  to  a  meadow,  about  a  mile  distant 
from  where  she  had  left  her  companions,  which  she  mis- 
took for  what  is  called  the  "  Oxlas  opening,"  a  mile 
distant  in  the  opposite  direction.  On  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, knowing  that!  she  was  lost,  and  having  heard  that 
lost  persons  might  be  guided  by  the  sun,  she  under 
took  to  follow  the  sun  during  the  day.     In  the  moni- 


APPKXDIX. 


359 


townships  of 
rluini,   Oxford, 
iidswiill,  turned 
for  camping  in 
'h  was  kept  up 
n  days,  when  it 
rcssion  that  she 
ion,  or  the  in- 
ined  almost  in- 
le.    On  the  81st 
^sachusetts,  and 
the  search,  but 
i  to  their  grea^ 

way  home  the 

ispondent  made 
tn  her  daughter 
[found,  as  might 
fisted  condition, 
id  been  during 
her  story  the 

)m  home  down 
la  mile  distant 
which  she  mis- 
ming,"  a  mile 
Jabbath  morn- 
ling  heard  that 
m,  she  under 
In  the  morn- 


ing she  directed  lier  stejts  towards  the  East,  crossed 
the  North  Hranch,  mistaking  it  for  ''Open  Brooke," 
and  travelii'd,  frequently  running,  in  a  south-east 
direetion  (her  way  hojue  was  due  north)  seven  or 
eight  miles,  till  she  came  to  the  great  hay-!nead«)W  in 
Windsor,  'i'liere  she  spent  Sabbath  night,  and  on 
Monday  morning  directed  her  course  to,  and  thence 
down,  the  South  Branch,  in  the  great  meadow. 

After  this,  she  appears  to  have  spent  her  time 
except  while  she  was  searching  for  food  for  herself 
and  dog,  in  walking  and  running  over  the  meadow, 
and  up  and  down  the  South  Branch,  in  search  of  her 
home,  occasionally  wandering  upon  the  highlands, 
and  far  down  towards  the  junction  of  the  two  main 
streams,  never  being  more  than  seven  or  eight  miles 
from  home. 

For  several  days,  by  attempting  to  follow  the  sun, 
she  travelled  in  a  circle,  finding  herself  at  night  near 
the  place  where  she  left  in  the  morning.  Although 
she  often  came  across  the  tracks  of  large  parties  of 
men,  and  their  recently  erected  camps,  and  knew  that 
multitudes  of  people  were  in  search  of  her,  she  saw 
no  living  person,  and  heard  no  sound  of  trumpet,  or 
other  noise,  except  the  report  of  a  gun,  as  she  lay  by 
a  brook,  early  on  Thursday  morning,  the  sixth  day 
of  her  being  lost.  Thinking  the  gun  to  have  been 
fired  not  more  than  half  a  milp  distant,  she  said  she 
"screamed  and  run"  to  the  place  from  whence  she 
supposed  the  noise  came,  but  found  nothing.  Early 
in  the  day,  however,  she  came  to  the  camp  where 
this  gun  was  fired,  but  not  until  after  its  occupants 


J 
\ 

•I 


I 
) 


360 


APPEXDIX. 


had  left  to  renew  their  search  f(>r  her.  This  camp 
•was  about  four  miles  from  the  great  meadow,  where 
she  spent  the  Sabbath  previous.  There  she  found  a 
fire,  dried  her  clothes,  and  found  a  partridge's  gizzard, 
which  she  cooked  and  ate,  and  laid  down  and  slept^^ 
remaining  about  twenty-four  hours. 

In  her  travels  she  came  across  several  other  camps, 
some  of  which  she  visited  several  times,  particularly 
where  she  found  names  cut  upon  trees,  and  another 
in  which  was  a  piece  of  white  paper.  Except  three 
or  four  nights  spent  in  these  camps,  she  slept  upon 
the  ground,  sometimes  making  a  bed  of  moss,  and 
endeavouring  to  shelter  herself  from  the  drenching 
rains  with  spruce  boughs.  For  the  first  two  weeks 
she  suffered  much  from  the  cold,  shivering  all  night, 
and  sleeping  but  little.  The  last  week  she  said  she 
had  got  "  toughened,"  and  did  not  shiver.  When  first 
lost  she  had  a  large  trout,  which  was  the  only  food 
she  ate,  except  choke-berries,  the  first  week,  and  part 
of  this  she  gave  to  her  dog,  which  remained  with  her 
for  a  week,  day  and  night.  The  cherries,  which  she 
ate  greedily,  swallowing  the  stones,  she  found  injured 
her  health  ;  and  for  the  last  two  weeks  she  lived  upon 
cranberries  and  w^ood  sorrel.  While  the  dog  re- 
mained with  her,  she  constantly  shared  her  food  with 
him.  but  said  she  was  glad  when  he  left  her,  as  it  was 
much  trouble  to  find  him  food. 

On  Thursday  of  last  week  she  followed  the  south 
towards  the  junction  with  the  north  branch,  where  it 
appeared  she  had  been  before,  but  could  not  ford  the 
stream  ;  and  in  the  afternoon  of  Friday  crossed  the 


r.  This  camp 
icadow,  where 
re  she  found  a 
ridge's  gizzard, 
own  and  slept^ 

il  other  camps, 

5s,  particularly 

I,  and  another 

Except  three 

she  slept  upon 

of  moss,  and 

the  drenching 

•st  two  weeks 

ring  all  night, 

;  she  said  she 

*.    When  first 

the  only  food 

eek,  and  part 

ined  with  her 

es,  which  she 

found  injured 

[he  lived  upon 

the  dog  re- 

ler  food  with 

|her,  as  it  was 

?d  the  south 

ich,  where  it 

not  ford  the 

crossed  the 


APPENDIX. 


3P»1 


north,  a  little  above  its  junction  with  the  south  branch, 
and  following  down  the  stream  she  found  herself  in 
the  clearing,  near  Mooi's  Mill.  Thence  directing  her 
steps  towards  home,  she  reached  Mr.  M'Dale's,  about 
a  mile  from  her  mother's,  at  six  o'clock,  having  walked 
five  miles  in  two  hours,  and  probably  ten  miles  du- 
ring the  day.  Here  she  remained  till  the  next  day, 
when  she  was  carried  home,  and  was  received  by  her 
friends  almost  as  one  raised  from  the  dead.  Her 
feet  and  ankles  were  very  much  swollen  and  lace- 
rated ;  but,  strange  to  say,  her  calico  gown  was  kept 
whole,  with  the  exception  of  two  small  rents. 

Respecting  her  feelings  during  her  fast  in  the  wil- 
derness, she  says  she  was  never  frightened,  though 
sometimes  when  the  sun  disappeared,  she  Mt  dis- 
heartened, expecting  to  perish;  but  when  she  found, 
by  not  discovering  any  new  tracks,  that  the  people 
had  given  over  searching  for  her,  she  was  greatly  dis- 
couraged. On  the  morning  of  Friday  she  was 
strongly  inclined  to  give  up,  and  lie  down  and  die; 
but  the  hope  of  seeing  her  mother  stimulated  her  to 
make  one  more  effort  to  reach  home,  which  proved 
successful.  When  visited,  she  was  in  a  state  of 
feverish  excitement  and  general  derangement  of  the 
system,  and  greatly  emaciated,  with  a  feeble  voice, 
but  perfectly  sane  and  collected. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  a  young  girl,  (aged 
seventeen,)  thinly  clad,  could  have  survived  twenty- 
one  days,  exposed  as  she  was  to  such  severe  storms, 
with  no  other  food  but  wild  berries.  It  is  also  very 
«trange  that  she  should  have  been  so  frequently  on 
31 


362 


APPENDIX. 


'A 


) 


the  ti-acks  of  those  in  soarch  of  her,  sleeping  in  the 
camps,  and  endeavouring  to  follow  their  tracks  home, 
and  not  have  heard  any  of  their  numerous  trumpets, 
or  been  seen  by  any  of  the  hundreds  of  persons  who 
were  in  search  for  her. 

A  more  dismal  result  than  the  deprivations  endured 
by  Sarah  Campbell  is  the  frightful  existence  of  a  hu- 
man creature,  called,  in  the  American  papers,  the 
"Wild  Man  of  the  far  West."  From  time  to  time 
these  details  approach  the  terrific,  of  wild  men  who 
have  grown  up  from  chilhood  in  a  state  of  destitution 
in  the  interminable  forests,  especially  of  this  one, 
who,  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  has  occasion- 
ally been  seen,  and  then  either  forgotten,  or  supposed 
to  be  the  mere  creation  of  the  beholder's  brain.  But 
it  appears  that  he  was,  in  March,  1850,  encountered 
by  Mr.  Hamilton,  of  Greene  County,  Arkansas,  when 
hunti'ig.  The  wild  man,  was,  likewise,  chasing  his 
prey.  A  herd  of  cattle  fled  past  Mr.  Hamilton  and 
his  party,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  pursued  by  a  giant, 
bearing  a  dreadful  semblance  to  humanity.  His  face 
and  shoulders  were  enveloped  with  long  streaming 
hair,  his  body  was  entirely  hirsute,  his  progression 
was  by  great  jumps  of  twelve  or  thirteen  feet  at  a 
leap.  The  creature  turned  and  gazed  earnestly  on 
the  hunters,  and  fled  into  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
where  he  was  lost  to  view.  His  foot-prints  were 
thirteen  inches  long.  Mr.  Hamilton  published  the 
description  of  the  savage  man  in  the  Memphis  In- 
quirer. Afterwards  Hcveral  planters  deposed  to  hav- 
ing, at  times,  for  many  years,  seen  this  appearance. 


APPENDIX. 


363 


,  sleeping  in  the 
eir  tracks  home, 
leious  trumpets, 
of  persons  who 

vations  endured 
istence  of  a  hu- 
3an   papers,  the 
m  time  to  time 
'  wild  men  who 
te  of  destitution 
ly  of  this  one, 
•y,  has  occasion- 
ten,  or  supposed 
er's  brain.     But 
50,  encountered 
Arkansas,  when 
se,  chasing  his 
Hamilton  and 
led  by  a  giant, 
nity.     His  face 
ong  streaming 
lis  progression 
teen  feet  at  a 
d  earnestly  on 
of  the  forest, 
)t-prints  were 
published   the 
Memphis  In- 
eposed  to  hav. 
is  appearance, 


A.11  persons  generally  agreed  that  it  was  a  child  that 
had  been  lost  in  the  woods  at  the  earthquake  in 
1811,  now  grown  to  meridian  strength,  in  a  solitary 
state.  Tlius  the  possibility  of  a  European  child 
living,  even  unassisted,  in  the  wilderness,  is  flimiliai 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  vast  American  continent, 
although  we  doubt  that  any  human  creature  would 
progress  by  leaps,  instead  of  the  paces  familiar  to  the 
human  instinct.  It  is  probable  that  the  wild  man  of 
the  Arkansas  is,  in  reality,  some  species  of  the 
orang-outang,  or  chimpanzee. 


B.— Page  83. 

"  where  Wolf  Tower  now  stands^* 

The  Wolf  Tower  is  among  the  very  fuw  structures 
in  Canada  not  devoted  to  purposes  of  strict  utility 
It  was  built  by  a  gentleman  of  property  as  a  belle 
vue,  or  fanciful  prospect  residence,  in  order  to  divert 
his  mind  from  the  heavy  pressure  of  family  affliction. 
It  was  once  let  by  him  to  the  author,  who  dwelt  here 
some  time  during  the  preparation  of  another  house 
in  the  district. 


i< 


C— Page  123. 
as  civilization  advances." 


FormcT'^y  the  Rice  Lake  Plains  abounded  in  deer, 
wolves,  bears,  racoons,  wolverines,  foxes,  and  wild 


■r:i 


T^ 


fH 


^5 


H 


.11  i 


BQi: 


APPEXDIX. 


Biiirnals  of  many  kinds.  Even  a  few  years  ago,  and 
bears  an  J  wolves  were  not  unfrequent  in  their  depre- 
dations; and  the  ravines  sheltered  herds  of  deer  ;  but 
now  the  sight  of  the  former  is  a  thing  of  rare  occur- 
rence, and  the  deer  are  scarcely  to  be  seen.  So 
changed  is  this  lovely  wilderness,  that  green  pastures 
and  yellow  corn-fields  now  meet  the  eye  on  every 
side,  and  the  wild  beasts  retire  to  the  less  frequented 
depths  of  the  forest. 

From  the  undulating  surface,  the  alternations  of 
high  hills,  deep  valleys,  and  level  table-lands,  with 
the  wide  prospect  they  command,  the  Rice  Lake 
Plains  still  retain  their  picturesque  beauty,  which 
cannot  be  marred  by  the  hand  of  the  settler  even  be  he 
ever  so  devoid  of  taste  ;  and  many  of  those  who  have 
chosen  it  as  their  home  are  persons  of  taste  and  re 
finement,  who  delight  in  adding  to  the  beauty  of  that 
which  Nature  had  left  so  fair. 


> 


D. — Page  166,  note, 

"  I  will  now,"  says  our  Indian  historian,  "  narrate  a 
single  circumstance,  which  will  convey  a  correct  idea 
of  the  sufferings  to  which  Indians  were  often  exposed. 
To  obtain  furs  of  different  kinds  for  the  traders,  we 
had  to  travel  far  into  the  woods,  and  remain  there 
the  whole  winter.  Once  we  left  Rice  Lake  in  the 
fall,  and  ascended  the  river  in  canoes  as  far  as  Bel- 
mont Lake.  Tliere  were  five  families  about  to  hunt 
with  my  father  on  his  ground.     The  winter  begari  to 


•  years  ago,  and 
i  in  their  depre. 
ds  of  deer  ;  but 
;  of  rare  occur- 
)  be  seen.  So 
;  green  pastures 
I  eye  on  every 
less  frequented 

alternations  of 
able-lands,  with 
the  Rice   Lake 

beauty,  which 
ttler  even  be  he 
those  who  have 
f  taste  and  re 

beauty  of  that 


[an,  "  narrate  a 
la  correct  idea 
(often  exposed, 
[he  traders,  we 
remain  there 
Lake  in  the 
las  far  as  Bel- 
ibout  to  hunt 
iter  began  to 


APPENDIX. 


365 


B€t  ill,  and  the  river  having  frozen  over,  we  left  the 
canoes,  the  dri.'d  venison,  the  beaver,  and  some  flour 
and  pork  ;  and  when  we  had  gone  further  north,  say 
about  sixty  miles  from  the  white  settlements,  for  tho 
purpose  of  hunting,  the  snow  fell  fjr  five  days  in  suc- 
cession, to  such  a  depth  that  it  was  impossible  to 
shoot  or  trap  any  thing  ;  our  provisions  were  exhaust- 
ed, and  we  had  no  means  of  procuring  any  more. 
Here  we  were,  the  snow  about  five  feet  deep,  our 
wigwam  liuried,  the  branches  of  the  trees  falling  all 
about  us,  and  cracking  with  the  weight  of  the  snow. 

*'  Our  mother  (who  secims,  by  the  by,  fj'om  the 
record  of  her  son,  to  have  been  a  most  excellent  wo- 
man) boiled  birch-bark  for  my  sister  and  myself,  that 
we  might  not  starve.  On  the  seventh  day  some  of 
us  were  so  weak  they  could  not  guard  themselves, 
and  others  could  not  stand  alone.  They  Cv>uld  only 
crawl  in  and  out  of  the  wigwam.  We  parched  bea- 
ver skins  and  old  mocassins  for  food.  (Jn  the  ninth 
day  none  of  the  men  could  go  abroad  exce])t  my  father 
and  uncle.  On  the  tenth  day,  still  being  without 
food,  the  only  ones  able  to  walk  about  the  wigwara 
were  my  father,  my  grandmother,  my  sister,  and  my 
self.  Oh,  how  distressing  to  see  the  starving  hidians 
lying  about  the  wigwam  with  hungry  and  eager 
looks  ! — the  children  would  crv  for  somethinii;  to  eat ! 
My  poor  mother  would  heave  bitter  sighs  of  des{:>iir, 
the  toars  falling  profusely  from  her  cheeks  as  siie 
kissed  us!  Wood,  though  in  plenty,  could  not  be 
obtained,  on  account  of  the  feebleness  of  oar  limbs. 
My  fathei-  would  at  times  draw  near  the  lire  and  ru. 
31* 


see 


APPENDIX. 


hearse  some  prayer  to  the  gods.  It  appeared  to  him 
that  there  was  no  way  of  escape,  the  men,  women, 
and  children  dying;  some  of  them  were  speetihless, 
the  wigwam  was  cold  and  dark,  and  covered  with 
snow ! 

*'  On  the  eleventh  day,  just  before  daylight,  my  fa- 
ther fell  into  a  sleep  ;  he  soon  awoke,  and  said  to  me» 
*My  son,  the  good  Spirit  is  about  to  bless  us  this 
night ;  in  my  dream  I  saw  a  person  coming  from  the 
east  walking  on  the  tops  of  the  trees  ;  he  told  me  we 
should  obtain  two  beavers  about  nine  o'clock.  Put 
on  your  mocassins,  and  go  along  with  me  to  the  river, 
and  we  will  hunt  beaver,  perhaps  for  the  last  time.' 
I  saw  that  his  countenance  beamed  with  delight  and 
hope ;  he  was  full  of  confidence.  I  put  on  my  mo- 
cassins and  carried  my  snow-shoes,  staggering  along 
behind  him  about  half  a  mile.  Having  made  a  fire 
near  the  river,  where  there  was  an  air-hole  through 
which  the  beaver  had  come  up  during  the  night,  my 
father  tied  a  gini  to  a  stump,  with  the  muzzle  towards 
the  air-hole  ;  he  also  tied  a  string  to  the  trigger,  and 
said,  'Should  you  see  the  beaver  rise  pull  the  string, 
and  you  will  kill  it.'  1  stood  by  the  fire,  with  the 
string  in  my  hand ;  I  soon  heard  the  noise  occasioned 
by  the  blow  of  his  tomahawk  ;  he  had  killed  a  beaver 
and  brought  it  to  me.  As  he  laid  it  down,  he  said, 
^Then  the  Great  Spirit  will  not  let  us  die  here;' 
adding,  as  before,  'if  you  see  the  beaver  rise,  pull  the 
3trinir;  and  he  left  me.  1  soon  saw  the  nose  of  vMie. 
but  1  did  not  shoot.  I'resently,  another  came  up; 
1  pulled  the  trigger,  and  oif  the  gun  wen»>.     1  could 


appeared  to  him 
he  men,  women, 
were  speeehless, 
id  covered  with 

daylight,  my  fa- 
and  said  to  me» 
to  bless  us  this 
3oming  from  the 
;  he  told  me  we 
e  o'clock.     Put 
me  to  the  river, 
r  the  last  time.' 
with  delight  and 
put  on  my  mo- 
Jtaggering  along 
ng  made  a  fire 
lir-hole  through 
the  night,  my 
Iniuzzle  towards 
|he  trigger,  and 
ull  the  string, 
fire,  with  the 
)ise  occasioned 
killed  a  beaver 
own,  he  said, 
us  die  here  ;' 
r  rise,  pull  the 
nose  of  v>ne. 
ler  cuine   up; 
CUV.     i  could 


APPENDIX. 


367 


not  see  for  some  moments  for  the  smoke.  M}  father 
ran  towards  me  with  the  two  beavers,  and  laid  them 
side  by  side ;  then,  pointing  to  the  sun,  — '  Do  you  see 
the  sunl'  he  said  ;  'the  Great  Spirit  informed  me  thnt 
we  should  kill  these  two  about  this  time  in  the  morn- 
ing. We  will  yet  see  our  relatives  at  Kice  Lake. 
Now  let  us  go  home,  and  see  if  our  people  are  yet 
alive.'  We  arrived  just  in  time  to  save  them 
from  death.  Since  which  we  have  visited  the  same 
spot  the  year  the  missionaries  came  among  us. 

"My  father  knelt  down,  with  feelings  of  gratitude, 
on  the  very  spot  where  we  had  nearly  perished. 
Glory  to  God !  I  have  heard  of  many  who  have 
perished  in  this  way  far  up  in  the  woods." — Life  of 
Oeorge  Copway^  written  by  Jtiinself  p.  44. 


E.— Pago  192. 

"...    on  first  decidiny  that  it  was  a  canopj'' 

The  Indians  say,  that  before  their  fathers  had  tools 
of  iron  and  steel  in  common  use,  a  war  canoe  was  the 
labour  of  three  generations.  It  \x'ds  liollowed  out  by 
means  of  fire,  cautiously  applied,  or  by  stone  hatcliets; 
but  so  slowly  did  the  woik  proceed,  that  years  were 
passed  in  its  excavation.  When  completed,  it  was 
regarded  as  a  great  achievement,  and  its  launching  on 
the  waters  of  the  lake  or  river  was  celebrated  liy 
feastiiig  anil  dancing.  Tlie  artisans  were  venerated 
as  great  patriots.  Possibly  the  bir('li-l)ark  canoe  was 
of  older  date,  as  being  more  easily  constructed^  and 


Ill 


868 


APPENDIX. 


o^ 


5 


m 


neediijj^  not  the  assistiince  of  the  axo  in  iurming  it; 
but  it  was  too  frail  to  ijc  used  in  war,  or  in  long 
voyages,  being  liable  to  injuries. 

'J'lie  black  stcjue  wedges,  so  often  fjund  on  tlio 
borders  of  our  inland  waters,  were  used  by  the 
Indians  in  skinning  the  deer  and  bear.  Their  arrow- 
heads were  of  white  or  black  flint,  rudely  chipped  into 
shape,  and  inserted  in  a  cleft  stick.  A  larger  sort 
were  used  for  killinij  deer;  and  blimt  wooden  ones 
were  used  by  the  children,  for,  shooting  birds  and 
small  game. 


« 


F.— Page  203. 
the  Christian  mind  rerolts  with  horrnr." 


There  is,  according  to  the  native  author,  George 
Copway,  a  strong  feeling  in  the  hidiatis  for  conversion 
and  civilization,  and  a  concentration  of  all  tlu^ 
Christianized  tribes,  now  scattered  fiir  and  wide  along 
the  northern  banks  of  the  lakes  and  rivers,  into  one 
nation,  to  be  called  by  one  name,  and  united  in  one 
purpose — their  general  improvement.  To  this  end. 
one  of  the  most  influential  of  their  chiefs,  John  Jones, 
of  Dover  Sound,  oflered  to  give  up  to  his  hidian 
brethren,  free  of  all  cost,  a  large  tract  of  unceded 
land,  that  they  niiglit  be  gathered  together  as  one 
/latioii. 

In  the  council  held  at  Sangeeny,  whei'c  with 
convened  Indian  chiefs  from  lakes  St.  Clare,  Simeoe, 
Huron,  Ontario,  and  Kice,  and  other  lakes,  it  was 


Hi  in  forming  it; 
war,  or  in  long 

ill  found  on  tlio 
re  used  by  tlie 
r.  Their  ai'row- 
duly  chipped  into 
.  A  larger  vsort 
int  wooden  ones 
)oting  birds  and 


APPENDIX. 


n69 


with  horror y 

\  author,  George 
IIS  for  conversion 
ion  of  all  the 
•  and  wide  along 
rivers,  into  one 
Id  united  in  one 
To  this  end. 
iefs,  John  Jones, 
to  his  Indian 
lact  of  unceded 
lo^iethcr  as   one 

whei'o     wi-re 

|C]aro,  Siuicoe, 

lakes,  it  was 


profHjsed  to  devise  a  plan  by  which  the  tract  owned 
by  the  Sangeenys  could  be  held  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Ojebwas,  to  petition  Government  for  aid  in  estal)- 
lishing  a  manual-labour  school,  and  to  ascertain  the 
gennral  feeling  of  the  chiefs  in  relation  to  forming 
one  large  settlement  at  Owen's  Sound.  At  this 
meeting  forty-eight  chiefs  were  assembled. 

There  is  much  to  admire  in  the  simple,  earnest, 
and  courteous  style  of  the  oration  delivered  by  Chief 
John  Jones,  and  will  give  to  my  readers  some  idea  of 
the  intelligence  of  an  educated  Indian  : — 

"Brothers,  }'Ou  have  been  called  from  all  your 
parts  of  Canada,  even  from  the  north  of  Georgian 
Bay.  You  are  from  your  homes,  your  wives,  and 
your  children.  We  might  regret  this,  were  it  not  for 
the  circumstances  that  require  you  here. 

"  Fellow-chiefs  and  brothers,  \  have  pondered  with 
deep  solicitude  our  present  condition  and  the  future 
welfare  of  our  children,  as  wxdl  as  of  ourselves.  I 
have  studied  deeply  and  anxiously,  in  order  to  arrive 
at  a  true  knowledge  of  the  proper  course  to  be  pur- 
sued to  secure  to  us  and  our  descendants,  and  even 
to  those  around  us,  the  greatest  amount  of  peace, 
health,  happiness,  and  usefulness.  The  interests  of 
the  Ojebwas  and  Ottawas  are  near  and  dear  to  my 
heart  ;  for  them  I  have  often  passed  sleepless  nights, 
and  have  suffered  from  an  agitated  mind.  These  na- 
tions,  I  am  proud  to  say,  are  my  brothers,  many  of 
them  bone  c/  my  bone  ;  and  for  them,  if  needs  be,  I 
would   willingly  sacrifice  any  thing.     Brothers,  you 


870 


APPENDIX. 


'I 


s*'e  my  heart.     [I fere  ho  hold  out  a  ploce  of  white 
paper,  oinbloinatical  of  a  piiro  hoart.] 

"  Follow-clilots  and  warriors,  I  havo  looked  over 
your  wigwams  throughout  Canada,  and  have  come  to 
the  conchision  that  you  are  in  a  warm  place  [qfteri/y 
too  hot  to  hold  you].  The  whites  are  kindling  fires 
all  round  you  [i.  <'.,  clearing  land]. 

"  One  purpose  for  which  you  havo  been  called  to 
pi'ther,  is  to  devise  some  plan  by  which  we  can  live 
together,  and  become  a  happy  people ;  so  that  our 
dying  fires  may  not  go  out,  [/.  e.,  our  people  become 
extinct,]  but  may  be  kindled,  and  burn  brightly  in  one 
place.  We  now  offer  you  any  portion  of  the  land  we 
own  in  this  region,  that  we  may  smoke  the  pipe  of 
peace,  and  live  and  die  together,  and  see  our  children 
play  and  be  reared  on  the  same  spot.  We  ask  no 
money  of  you.  W^e  love  you  ;  and  because  we  lo ,  e 
you,  and  feel  for  you,  we  propose  this. 

"  My  chiefs,  brothers,  warriors.  This  morning 
[the  speaker  now  pointed  with  his  fingers  towards 
the  heavens,]  look  up  and  see  the  blue  sky :  there 
are  no  clouds  ;  the  sun  is  bright  and  clear.  Our 
fathers  tauijbt  us,  that  when  the  skv  was  without 
clouds,  the  Great  Spirit  was  smiling  upon  them.  May 
he  now  preside  over  us,  that  we  may  make  a  long, 
rmooth,  and  straight  path  for  our  children.  It  is  true 
I  seldom  see  you  all,  but  this  morning  I  shake  hands 
rith  you  all,  in  my  heart. 

"Brothers,  this  is  all  I  have  to  say." 


I  {)Iece  of  white 

I 

ve  looked  over 
id  have  come  to 
m  |)laee  [quert/j 
re  kiiuMiiig  fires 

hcen  called  to 
lieh  we  can  Jive 
le ;  so  that  our 
•  people  become 
n  brightly  in  one 
[1  of  the  land  we 
Dke  the  pipe  of 
see  our  children 
)t.  We  ask  no 
)ecause  we  lo ,  e 

Tliis  morninsr 
^mgers  towards 
lue  sky :  there 
hd  clear.  Our 
was  without 
►n  them.  May 
make  a  long, 
•en.  It  is  true 
I  shake  hands 


APPKXDIX. 


371 


G.— Pago  221. 
**   .   .   ,   and  aimed  a  knife  at  his  throat.** 

The  period  at  which  these  events  are  said  to  have 
occurred  was  some  sixty  or  eighty  years  ago,  accord- 
hig  to  the  imperfect  chronology  of  my  informant.  At 
first,  I  hesitated  to  believe  that  such  horrible  deeds  m 
those  recorded  could  have  taken  place  almost  within 
the  memory  of  men.  My  Indian  narrator  replied— 
"Indians,  no  Christians  in  those  days,  do  worse  than 
that  very  few  years  ago, — do  as  bad  now  in  far-west." 

The  conversion  of  the  Rice  Lake  Indians,  and  the 
gathering  them  together  in  villages,  took  place,  I 
think,  in  the  year  1825,  or  thereabouts.  The  con- 
version was  effected  by  the  preaching  of  missionaries 
from  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  Church;  the  village 
was  under  the  patronage  of  Captain  Anderson,  whose 
descendants  inherit  much  land  on  the  north  shore  on 
and  about  Anderson's  Point,  the  renowned  site  of  the 
great  battle.  The  war-weapon  and  bones  of  the 
enemies,  the  Ojebwas,  are  still  to  be  found  in  tais 
vicinity. 


H.— Page  238. 
"  This  place  she  called  Spooke  Island." 

Spooke  Island.  A  singular  and  barren  island  in 
the  Rice  Lake,  seventh  from  the  head  of  the  lake,  on 
which  the  Indians  used  formerly  to  bury  their  dead, 
for  many  years  held  as  a  sacred  spot,  and  only  ap- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


A 


^  A 


'/ 


i  ^Ai 


St 


1.0 

I.I 

^  lU    12.2 

Z   U£    |2.0 

IU£ 

1 1.25      1.4 

Ih 

< 

6"     - 

► 

Hiotographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRHT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)  •72-4503 


^^" 

^ 


O  •  —I 


Al'PENDIX. 


proach'jd  witli  rcvorcnco.  Xow  ninioii«<  Cnr  two 
thiiii^s,  picnics  and  poison  ivt/,  r//ns  toxicodendron, — 
many  persons  having  snfrcrcd  for  their  tomority  in 
hin<ling  upon  it  and  making  it  the  scene  of  their  rural 
festivities. 


I.— Pnj^e  2.>0. 
*  and  nothinij  hiitjirey 

The  Indians  call  the  Iiice  Lake,  in  allusion  to  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  fires  run  over  the  dry  herb- 
age, the  Lake  of  the  Burning  Phiins.  (.'ertainly, 
there  is  much  poetical  fitness  and  beauty  in  many  of 
the  Indian  names,  approximating  very  closely  to  the 
figurative  imagery  of  the  language  of  the  East ;  such 
is  "  Mad-wOrOsh,"  the  music  of  the  winds. 


K.— Page  279. 

**  hut  it  was  not  so  in  the  daj/s  whereof  I  have  spolcen.^ 

From  George  Coptcarfs  Life. 

Converted  Indians  are  thus  described  in  the  "  Life" 
of  their  literary  countryman,  George  Copway  : — 

Chippewas  of  the  River  Credit. — lliese  Indians  are 
the  remnant  of  a  tribe  which  formerly  possessed  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  Elome  and  Gore  Districts, 
of  which,  in  1818,  they  surrendered  the  greater  part 
for  an  annuity  of  53'2/.  lO.-?.  reserving  only  certain 
small  tracts  at  the  River  Credit;  and  at  Sixteen  and 
T\«elve  Mile  Creeks  they  were  the  first  tribe  converted 


APPKNiMX. 


O  t  d 


,»ii(>n<i    for    two 

eir  tomoritv  in 
le  of  their  rural 


I  allusion  to  the 
r  the  dry  herb- 
ns.  Certainly, 
uty  in  many  of 
f  closely  to  the 
the  East;  such 
Inds. 


/  have  spoken.** 

e. 

Ml  in  the  "  Life" 
Copway  : — 
bcse  Indians  are 
rlv  possessed  a 
I  Gore  Districts, 
the  greater  part 
ng  only  certain 
.  at  Sixteen  and 
;  tribe  converted 


todn-Istiaiiltv.  iVt'vious  to  the  \  ear  1S2')  tliev  wore 
wandering  jmgans.  In  tiiat  year  Prtt'r  Jones,  and 
John  his  brother,  the  sons  of  a  whitt;  bv  a  Missjss.ij'a 
woman,  having  been  converted  to  Christianity,  an<l 
admitted  as  menil)ers  of  the  Weslevan  Methodist 
Church,  became  anxious  to  redeem  their  countrymen 
from  their  degraded  state  of  heathenism  and  spiritual 
destitution.  They  collected  a  consideral)l(^  numher 
together,  and  by  rote  and  frefpient  repetitions  taught 
the  first  prlncij)ies  of  Christianity  to  such  as  were  too 
old  to  learn  to  read,  and  w  ith  the  Lord's  IVayer,  the 
Creed,  and  Commandments,  were  thus  committed  to 
memory.  As  soon  as  the  tribes  were  converted,  they 
perceived  the  evils  attendant  on  their  former  state  of 
ignorance  and  vagrancy.  They  began  to  work,  which 
they  had  never  done  before ;  they  recognized  the 
advantage  of  cultivating  the  soil  ;  they  gave  up 
drinking,  to  which  they  had  been  greatly  a<idicted, 
and  became  sober,  consistent,  industrious  Christians. 

J.  Sawyer,  P.  Jones,  Chiefs  ;  J.  Jones,  War- 
chief 

The  Chippeinas  of  Alnwick  were  converted  in 
1 820-7.  They  were  wandering  pagans,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Belleville,  Kingston,  and  Gannoyne, 
commonly  known  as  ^[ississagas  of  the  Bay  of 
Quinte  ;  they  resided  on  (^rape  Island,  in  the  Bay  of 
Quinte,  six  miles  from  Belleville.  They  resided 
eleven  years  on  the  island,  subsisting  by  hunting  and 
agriculture.  Their  houses  were  erected  partly  by 
their  own  labour  and  by  the  Weslevan  Missionary 
funds;  these  consist  of  twenty -three  houses,  a  comnio- 
32 


37  i 


Ari'KNDlX. 


(lious  "Impel  (in<l  school,  uu  iiifliiit  scliool,  hospital 
smithy,  shociimkcr's  siiop  and  joiner's.  There  an; 
upwards  of  *}00  of  these  liidiajis. 

The  (*hi(>fs  an; — Sunday  ;  Simpson ;  G.  Corrego, 
•liief  and  niissi(  nary  inler[)reter. 

like  Lake  C/  ippeiras. — In   1818  the  greater  part 
of  the  Neweastic  and  Colliurn  districts  were  surren- 


lii'red,  for  an  annuity  of  940/.     These  hidians  have 


ill    i 


)een  reclainie( 


1   fi 


oni 


tl 


leir  wanderniir 


h 


life 


aiu 


I 


si'ttled  in  their  i)n,'sent  locations,  within  the  last  ten 
oi'  twelve  years.*  The  settlement  is  on  the  north 
side  of  the  lake,  twelve  miles  from  Peterborough. 
Number  of  Indians,  114;  possessing  1,550  acres, 
subdivided  in  fifty -acre  lots. 

Chiefs — Pondash,  (Jv^pway,  Crow. 

Deer  were  plenty  a  few  years  ago,  but  now  only 
few  can  ])e  f(>und.  The  Ojebwas  are  at  present  em- 
ployed in  farming  instead  of  hunting;  many  of  them 
have  good  and  well-cultivated  farms;  they  not  only 
r.nse  grain  enough  for  their  own  use,  but  often  sell 
much  to  the  whites. 


L.— i'ago  289. 
"thai  an  outward  manifestation  of  surprise. ** 

A  vouniT  friend,  who  was  familiar  with  Indian  charao- 
ter,  from  frequent  intercourse  with  them  in  his  hunting 

*  I  tliink  G.  Copwjiy  18  incorrect  as  to'tlic  date  of  tlie  settliujjf 
ot'tlie  vilhiiTi',  iis  it  was  pointed  out  to  mo  in  1832.  Note. — In 
the  year  1822  t!ie  lar<rer  part  of  tbe  Indian  village  on  Andorson't 
Point  Wiis  built  and  cultivated. 


scliool,  hospital, 
or's.     Til  ere  an» 

on ;  G.  Corrego, 

the  greater  pjirt 
lets  were  siirreii- 
L^sc  Indians  have 
idering  life,  and 
thin  the  hist  ten 
is  on  the  north 
n  Peterborough, 
ng   1,550   acres, 


JO,  but  now  only 
e  at  present  em- 
;  many  of  them 
5 ;  they  not  only 
»e,  but  often  sell 


f  surprise*" 

th  Indian  characv 
m  in  his  hunting 

date  ol'tlie  seltliiig 

|i  1832.     Note.— In 

lage  on  Audoraon'a 


APPEN'DIX. 


375 


pxpeditions,  speaking  of  their  apparent  absence  of 
curiosity,  told  nic  that,  with  a  view  to  test  it,  he 
wound  up  a  musical  snulK])o.x,  nnd  phiced  it  on  a 
Ui])le  in  a  room  where  several  Indian  hunters  an<l 
their  squaws  were  standing  together,  and  narrowly 
watched  their  countenances,  but  they  evinced  no  sort 
of  surprise  by  look  or  gesture,  remaining  apathetically 
unmoved.  lie  retired  to  an  adjoining  room,  where, 
unseen,  he  could  notice  what  passed,  and  was  amused 
at  j)erceiving,  that  the  instant  they  imagined  them 
solves  five  from  his  surveillance,  the  whole  party 
mustered  round  the  mysterious  toy  like  a  parcel  of 
bees,  and  appeared  to  be  full  of  conjecture  and  amaze- 
ment, but  they  diji  not  choose  to  be  entrapped  into 
showing  surprise.  This  perfect  command  over  the 
muscles  of  me  face  and  the  glance  of  the  eye  is  one  of 
the  remarkable  traits  in  the  Indian  character.  The 
expression  of  the  Indian  face,  if  I  may  use  so  para- 
doxical a  term,  consists  in  a  want  of  expression — like 
the  stillness  of  dark,  deep  water,  beneath  which  no 
object  is  visible. 


M.— Page  338. 

"  bracelets  of  porcupine  quilh  cut  injine  pieces  and  strung 

in  fanciftd  pattern." 

The  Indian  method  of  drawing  out  patterns  on  the 
birch  bark,  is  simply  scratetinig  the  outline  with  some 
amall-pointed  instrument,  Canadian  thorn,  a  bG<lkin 
of  bone,  or  a  sharp  nail.     These  outlines  are  then 


'   pi 


BTO 


AIM'KNDIX. 


2? 

,1 

1 

•I 
t 


I 


|1iorct'(l  with  f)iir.'ill(^l  rows  of  holes,  info  wliich  the 
ends  of  thti  porciipino.  (|uills  are  insiTtt-d,  for'iniii^  a 
rich  sort  of  einhroidcrv  on  the  siirfjicc  of  tho  hariv. 

The  hidian  artists  have  about  as  tmich  notion  of 
pcrspcctivo,  or  the  effects  of  life  and  shade,  as  the 
(,'hinese  or  our  own  early  painters;  their  attempts  at 
delijicatinr^  animals,  or  birds,  art^  flat,  sharp,  and  an- 
jjnl.'ir;  an«l  their  jrroups  of  flowers  and  trees  not  more 
graceful  or  natural  than  those  on  a  china  plate  or  jar  ; 
nevertheless,  the  effect  produced  is  rich  and  striking, 
from  the  vivid  colours  and  the  variety  of  dyes  they 
contrive  to  give  to  this  simple  material,  the  porcupine 
quills.  The  sinew  of  the  deer.^  and  some  other 
animals,  furnish  the  Indian  worntyi  with  thread,  of 
any  degree  of  fineness  or  strength.  The  wants  of 
these  simple  folk  are  few,  and  those  easily  supplied 
by  the  adaptation  of  such  materials  as  they  can  cona- 
mand  with  ease,  in  their  savage  state. 


;:•* 


N.— Page  :i45. 
"is  Bloinit  Ararat.^* 

Mount  Ararat,  the  highest  elevation  on  the  Rice 
Lake  Plains,  for  nearly  two  years  the  residence  of 
the  authoress  and  her  family. 

THE   END. 


h's,  Info  will,!,  the 
inserted,  fnnriinnr  a 
'•iacc  of  (he  hark. 
as  rrmi'Ii  notion  of 
and  shade,  as  the 
;  their  attom|)ts  at 
Hat,  sliarp,  and  an- 
aiid  trees  not  more 
eliina  phite  or  jar  ; 
s  rich  and  strilvin«' 
riety  of  dyes  they 
'rial,  the  porcupine 
and    some   other 
II  with  thread,  of 
1.     The  wants  of 
se  easily  supplied 
as  they  can  cora- 
te. 


:ion  on  the  Rice 
the  residence  of 


